Shall We Play A Game?
by StrigoiVii
Summary: What kind of game does Dean have to play to save Sam this time? And can he save himself as well? As the story unwinds, there just may be more to it then meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

This is a pretty short intro to the rest of the story, it does get longer.

The ringing of the phone woke Bobby from his deep sleep. It wan incessant. Obviously the person calling would not take the machine for an answer. They just hung up and called back over and over again. Looking at the clock and seeing it read three in the morning, he knew it could only be one of two people. Or more like the two people that created one entity. And when he looked at the caller ID, he knew he was right.

"Sam? That you?" It wasn't really a question, since he already knew who the caller was.

"Bobby, Dean's gone." Sam sounded dazed and confused.

"What do you mean, he's gone, Sam? Is he missing 'gone', pissed off and left 'gone', or dead 'gone'?"

"He's just gone. He's not here anymore. The car's here, his stuff's here, but he's gone."

"Are you sure he didn't just wander off to the nearest bar somewhere?" Bobby knew that was a stupid question, but he still had to ask. Lately, Dean never went anywhere without Sam.

"No. He's just gone."

"Sam, why do you keep saying he's just gone?" Bobby was starting to get a little frustrated with the twenty questions game.

"I got up to go to the bathroom. His bed was empty. Then, I saw something weird on his pillow. I pulled back the blanket, and that's when I saw it."

"What Sam? You saw WHAT?"

"His ring, Bobby. His ring was in the bed. So was his necklace. And his boxers were there, right where his body should have been."

"I'm not getting it, Sam." Bobby was starting to think something was wrong with Sam. He sounded like he couldn't piece his thoughts together enough to spit them out as one. "That doesn't mean he's gone."

"Bobby, do you remember when Dean broke his wrist back in high school, and they had to put those pins in it?"

"Yeah. What's that got to do with any of this?" Bobby was now starting to worry.

"Their in the bed too, next to his ring. And the fillings that were in his teeth, their laying on his pillow. He's just gone."

"Where are you Sam?"

"Kansas City."

"Don't touch anything. I'll be right there."

Bobby drove at damn near the speed of light, chewing up miles as he chewed on his nails. He had no idea what the hell was going on. And if he had no clue, then he knew Sam had no clue either. The ring and necklace were one thing, but the pins and fillings, that was a new one on him. Who, or what, could take Dean, leaving such personal things behind? Bobby had a few thoughts, but no answers. And he wasn't really sure where to even start looking.

It didn't take long for him to pull up to the address Sam had given him. Yet another shit hole motel in the bottomless pit of nowhere. And it didn't take Sam long to open the door and beckon him in.

And when he came in, his eyes fell on the same sight Sam's had. And he knew they were in some weird sort of trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The throbbing pain in his head woke Dean from his sleep, if that's what you could call it. It was more like a limbo state. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was not an ounce of light anywhere to be found. And he could hear nothing as well. Even the sound of his own breathing was non-existent. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, he thought he'd suddenly been struck blind and deaf. Figuring he had to be dead, he felt his neck for a pulse, not sure there'd be one there. He was relieved to know that at lease he was still alive. It was like he was in some void, where nothing existed but him. And there was another thing that disturbed him. Despite the fact that he was totally naked, he was neither cold, nor hot. Sizing up the situation, he was naked, blind, deaf, and his teeth hurt. It was totally unnerving him. And wasn't that was just great.

"Sam? Are you there?"

He fully expected at least a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake from the apparent nightmare he'd found himself in. Nothing. He could have sworn by the lack of sound that he was alone, except for the fact that, being the experienced hunter he was, he knew he was being watched. He could feel it.

"I know someone's there. Where the hell am I?"

"Hell is such a generic term, Dean Winchester. I prefer to call it home, for the time being." The voice was feminine, soft and sensual, yet slightly aggressive. And for a moment, Dean actually liked it, until he realized what it must be that spoke it.

"Well, I guess I don't need to introduce myself, do I? Since you know my name, care to share yours?" If Dean thought he was unnerved before, talking to some disembodied voice in utter darkness made it ten times worse.

"Oh, I think we'll save that one for later. First things first, let's discuss why I brought you here."

"And where exactly would 'here' be?"

"Let's just say you have already answered that question for yourself. You know, your family seems to be causing quite a stir amongst some of my colleagues, and have been for some time now. I try not to pay much attention to them, they are all so superficial, and their chatter tires me. They're like spoiled children that have the rule of the house when their parents are away. But the more chatter I heard, the more it aroused my curiosity. And the more I watched and learned about your family, the more I started realizing things that I thought could never be possible."

"Lady, you lost me a long time ago. Wanna back the truck up and try unloading it again?"

"You're so facetious, Dean. It's almost charming. Let me get straight to the point. You and I are going to play a game. Well, just you really. If you win, I'll let you live."

"Then you may as well kill me now. I got a feeling it's a game I can't win, and I don't think I'm gonna like the rules."

"Who said I'd kill YOU if you lose. Oh, no, I have eyes on a bigger prize. If you lose, you die, and I get Sam. He has a light inside of him that just can't be tainted, though some of my counterparts have tried. It's a light that can open possibilities for me that I never thought were attainable. Unfortunately, I just can't take it, because you stand in the way, and just killing you would be against the rules."

"You have rules? I sure would like to see that book. I'm pretty sure some of you tear out some of the pages every now and then to suit yourselves, don't you."

"Dean, I'm hurt. You think I wouldn't play fair. I'm not some low-level lackey, doing whatever they want to get their way. When I lay down the rules, I stick to them. And if you win, I'll reward you handsomely with your prize. It's very simple, actually."

"Aren't you afraid of stepping on anyone's toes? I think someone around here has dibs on my family already."

"Dean, there is a hierarchy here that is followed, albeit not willingly. Let's just say some of us have more seniority then others, and if need be, we can play that trump card at will. Our mutual 'friend' really has nothing to say in this matter."

"Lady, you gotta get better friends."

"So, what's it going be Dean, are you willing to play my game?"

"I sure hope it's not strip poker. I think you'd have an unfair advantage."

"Yes or no. My patience is starting to run thin with you."

"It doesn't sound like I have much of a choice, do I?"

"Not really. If you refuse, I can just leave you here, floating in nothing for all eternity. And that would leave your precious Sammy unprotected. And that would be handing him right over to the others that want him so badly. Where'd the fun be in that?"

"Since I stopped playing games when I was ten, what did you have in mind? I was always pretty good at Battleship. Or Mousetrap, that was one of my specialties."

"Oh, no, it won't be any of those kinds of games, or maybe it will be. It will be a little like hide and seek. I hide it, you seek it, and only by riddle will I identify it. It's as simple as that. But you do have a time limit."

"And how exactly do I keep track of time? You seem to have left me a little unequipped."

"Trust me, you'll know when you're times up."

"Any reason you brought me here in no clothes, aside from the obvious?"

"You really do think rather highly of yourself, don't you? You entered this world in the same manner which you entered your world. And you will leave the same way, if you leave. Tell me, were you born fully clothed?"

"I think my Dad would have told me if I was. Probably would have been in Guinness or something then."

"The longer you try to impress me with your dry wit, the less time you have for your task at hand, and I'll tell you, I don't impress very easily."

"Well, game on then."

"That's the spirit."

The dark was immediately replaced by a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, Dean found himself in the middle of a small, windowless room that had absolutely no color whatsoever. Everything was gray, from the walls, to the door, to the floor. There was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, also gray, on the floor. Picking them up, he couldn't wait to put them on, not caring what they looked like. He was never a fashion plate to begin with, why start now. He looked like a prison inmate, but at least he was covered. Under the pile of clothes was an elegantly written note. Reading it, he knew the clock had started ticking.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: The story starts to pick up a little after this, hope everyone likes it, it was totally made up as I went with no real destination in mind._

Chapter 3

Bobby just stood there, scratching his head and staring at the bed. The one thing Sam hadn't mentioned on the phone when he called and dragged him into the mess was the thin layer of sulfur that lay on the floor around Dean's last resting place. There's no way Sam could have missed the smell. To Bobby, it was a dead give-away. It wasn't just 'something' that had taken Dean, and Bobby had to contemplate very hard about what to do next. Looking at Sam, he knew he was going to be of little, or no help. Sam just sat there staring at the empty bed, shaking his head in shocked disbelief.

"This is bad, isn't it?"

"It ain't good, kid."

"What are we gonna do, Bobby?" Sam sounded like a lost dog, searching for its master. He couldn't remember a time that if he really needed Dean, he wasn't' there. He'd always been there if Sam needed someone to fall back on. But Dean had been taken from him, and it petrified him. He truly had no idea what to do, where to look, or where to go.

"I'm not sure yet, but we're gonna figure it out."

"You think a demon took him, don't you?"

"Looks that way, doesn't it? Don't think it was just some low level flunky, either."

"What are you saying? You don't think it's THE demon, our demon?"

"No, I think it's more powerful than that."

"You gotta be kidding me. You think we have another one of those bastards to deal with. How many of them have it out for us. Shit, Bobby, how much more can we take?"

As soon as the last word left Sam's mouth, he could sense that he was about the get the answer he needed. The presence he felt in the room was overwhelmingly malevolent. As soon as he felt it, the room went pitch dark, save for the eerie glow emanating from under the bathroom door. Every moment that passed, the glow grew brighter and brighter, until it almost lit up the whole room.

As the door creaked open, Sam just stared in awe at the figure emerging from the brilliant light flowing from the tiny space. She was a vision to behold. Her long, red hair flowed down to her waist, light curls cascading around her face. Her skin was a flawless, creamy ivory in tone, soft and smooth in texture. She had softest green eyes Sam thought he'd ever seen, yet the way they pierced through him made him feel cold inside. She was tall and thin, and wore a dress made entirely of snakeskin. The sight of that made Sam shudder, and yet, he was attracted to her at the same time.

"Sam Winchester, you have questions that only I have the answers to. What would you pay for them?"

"What the hell have you done with my brother?" Sam snarled at her, trying to hide the fear that was rising inside him.

"All in good time, Sam. Dean and I have some business to attend to, and if his results please me, I may return him to you, in one piece."

"Return him from where? Where have you taken him? I swear to God, if you hurt him,,,"

"You swear to God? That's a laugh! Do you really think that old man listens anymore? He just lets his disobedient children wreck havoc on the earth, and does nothing to stop it or prevent it. You can swear to God all you like, Sam, but I really don't think he's listening. Now please, one question at a time, and save your hollow threats for someone that may actually fear them. Your brother is fine, for the time being. He has agreed to play a friendly little game with me. My reasons are my own, and the rewards will be great if he can succeed. Of course, the consequences will be disastrous should he fail. He's fully aware of the risks, and has thrown his hat into the ring anyway. Where I've taken him, you have no way of finding, but I thought it cruel to keep you in the dark, so I've decided to give you a front row seat."

With a gentle twist of her hand, the motel room door and windows both locked up tight. Sam crossed the room in barely three steps, and trying the door knob, realized he and Bobby had been locked inside. Picking up one of Dean's boots from the floor, he hurled it as hard as he could at the window, the steel-toed monster harmlessly bouncing off and landing on the floor with a soft thud. They were trapped like rats in a cage.

"Now Sam, why would you want to leave when the show is just beginning? Don't you want to see how this will all turn out, for both of you?"

Another twist of her wrist, and the crappy motel TV burst to life, wildly flipping from channel to channel like someone died with a death grip on the remote. Finally settling on what appeared to be an old black and white movie, Sam's mouth almost dropped to the floor. On the screen in front of him was Dean, in a small little room, reading some note, and shaking his head back and forth, obviously trying to figure something out like his life depended on it.

"Dean!" Sam thought if he shouted loud enough, maybe, just maybe, Dean would hear him.

"Sam, you can shout until your vocal chords rupture, he can't hear you. He doesn't even know you can see him. That makes it all the more fun, doesn't it. You may just get a little insight into that steel trap of a brain he has. Just sit back and enjoy the show. Sorry, I didn't bring any popcorn for you, but I think you'll manage just fine without it."

In another brilliant flash of light, the bathroom door slammed shut, and the room was once again dark, the only light coming from the TV. And they were alone. The scene hadn't changed much either. Dean still paced, scratching his head, rubbing his chin, staring at the ceiling. The harsh light that had invaded the motel room now assaulted Dean's eyes, it nearly blinding him.

"Dean, I'm going to let you in on a little secret before we begin. I know you have a tendency to be reckless, not really caring what you do to your body. Just a little added note that you may want to consider before you shoot first and ask questions later. Since you and your brother share so much already, I'm going to let him share in your experience here. Every pain you feel, every bruise you get, every hangnail and stubbed toe, every reckless mistake you make, you will share with him, only he'll be receiving it ten fold. Keep that in mind. When you hurt yourself, you hurt Sam as well. You may want to try using the intelligence you were given, and I'm pretty sure you have, yet hide from everyone. You're smarter then you'd like people to believe, and now, I'm afraid, you're going to have to utilize it."

"You've got to be kidding me. Lady, if you wanna win this game, you gotta make it a little tougher then this."

Reading the note out loud, Dean just smirked.

"What runs, but does not walk?  
What has a mouth, but does not talk?  
What has a head, but does not weep  
And has a bed, but does not sleep? I could figure that one out with half my brain tied behind my back"

"If you are so confident, there's the door. Find it, and you'll be one step closer to your prize."

She also smirked, knowing things would only get more difficult for Dean the second he walked out that door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Grabbing hold of the door, Dean swung it wide, and stepped out into the bright light. It was a sharp contrast to the interior of the little room that was really nothing more then a prison cell. Every color was more vibrant then the next. The sun was high in the sky, burning bright red, the sky itself an unnatural shade of orange. And looking out into the vast desert that stood before him, he had a pretty good idea that he was totally screwed. It looked like someone had dropped him in the middle of the Sahara desert, with nothing to be seen but sand.

"You gotta be kidding me? This is so not funny. How the hell am I supposed to find a river in the desert?" The little confidence Dean had gained by figuring out the riddle at hand and been totally squashed when he stepped out the door, and into the world beyond.

"Ok, think Dean, junior year, science class, Miss Carmichael. Ooh, yeah, Miss Carmichael, there's some happy thoughts. Good thing she had my attention. Deserts can have rivers, flowing from the north. Guess that means I gotta go north. Shit, which way is north?"

Searching the area for something remotely resembling a pole, Dean was pretty sure he saw something off in the distance, standing out in the flat landscape. His visibility not obscured in the least, he had no idea how far it actually was. He walked and walked, never seeming to close the gap. And the more he walked, the hotter he got. The sun was merciless, beating down hard on everything around, making the area desolate and dry. He was covered in sweat, the clothes he wore sticking to him uncomfortably. And he was truly beginning to think he was in actual hell.

He'd just walked, not really paying attention anymore, when he smacked dead on into the object of his mindless trek.

"Son of a bitch!" The pain was intense, as the needles of the tall, thin cactus embedded themselves in his chest and face, instantly covering his already saturated shirt in small pools of blood. "It's about damn time."

Removing one of his shoes, he placed it at the end of the shadow the monster plant cast. Then he just sat down, and picking out needles from his face and chest, waited..

The instant Sam saw his brother ram right into that god forsaken cactus, he let out a cry of pain that even he wasn't sure had actually come from his mouth. It was horrible, and it made Bobby cringe the second he heard it. Breathing heavily, he fell to his side and tried to regain some sense of reality. His face and chest felt like they were on fire, blood staining his cheeks and saturating his shirt almost instantly.

Bobby saw the almost instantaneous change to crimson on Sam's shirt, and grabbed a pillow off the bed, stripping the case off in one swift move. He yanked off Sam's shirt, and started wiping the blood away. What really got to Bobby was the fact that even though Sam was bleeding like a disemboweled animal, there were no puncture wounds anywhere to be found. Just the blood, and obvious pain. Thankfully, the more needles he saw Dean pulling out, the less Sam bled, until the bleeding has stopped altogether

Finally catching his breath, he reached for Bobby, trying to pull himself upright. "Stupid ass, needs to watch where the hell he's going."

Bobby couldn't help but let out a chuckle, even though the situation was far from funny. "Always knew there was a clumsy kid in there, trying to get out."

"What the hell is he doing, Bobby? Why's he just sitting there?"

"Watch and learn, Sam. You don't always need a compass to tell you which way is north."

Dean wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, but he figured it had been long enough. Removing the other shoe, he placed it in the new location of the shadow, and sat back down to continue his wait. Waiting was never something he did well, but sometimes, it just couldn't be helped. Another eternity later, he knew which direction he had to go.

Picking up the first shoe and replacing it to his now sand covered feet, he started talking to himself, "Shadow starts, here, continues to here." Walking a few paces to his left, he retrieved the second shoe, returning it to it's rightful place as well. A few more paces left, he stood at the end of the shadow, "Rises in the east, sets in the west." Knowing exactly which direction was north, he headed off in that direction.

He had no idea what time it was, but by the time he'd reached water, it was almost pitch dark. The desert had given way to what seemed like dead, brown plains, but no river, yet. After walking for only god knew how many hours, he was hot, sweaty, dehydrated, and quite positive he couldn't move another step. When he finally reached it, the water was so inviting, he dropped down onto the bank, scooped up a handful, and just drank it. Then he prayed it wasn't poisoned. "Oh well, too late now," he'd said after swallowing the fourth or fifth mouthful. He wasn't sure, he'd lost count.

He laid on his back, staring up at the now black sky, trying to regain some strength in his exhausted body. He'd almost dozed off completely when he heard the screams penetrating the silence off in the distance. Hunter's instinct kicking in, he scanned the area for the sounds of distress, and located them quickly. In the water, there was a woman, who seemed to be drowning.

Without hesitation, Dean jumped into the relatively still waters, swimming the short distance and pulling her up to the surface. She had some kind of plant wrapped around her legs, seemingly alive and trying to pull her under with every rush of current. Bracing himself on something hard beneath the surface, he pulled her with all his might, snapping the hold it had on her, and pulling them both back to the edge.

He pushed her up onto dry land, dragging himself right behind. If he thought he was exhausted before, he was totally spent now. He just lay there breathing heavily, arms over his chest.

"I don't know how to thank you. Where did you come from, anyway? You're the first person I've seen all day. I was starting to believe I was the only one here."

"Slow down sister, one thing at a time. What are you doing here, anyway. Thought this was my own personal hell. Nobody said anything about babysitting."

"I don't know what I'm doing here. I woke up this morning in some tiny gray room, with this note in my hand. Says it's for a Dean Winchester. I don't know any Dean Winchester. I've been wandering around all day. Slipped and fell in the river when I was trying to get a drink from it. That's when you pulled me out."

"Well, you did one thing right, at least you found Dean Winchester."

"You're Dean Winchester?"

"In the flesh, and you are?"

"Lily. Guess this notes for you then."

Handing it over, Dean was a little suspicious that after being in the river, it was bone dry. Opening it and reading, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

I can be as strong as an ox or weak as a sparrow.

I pass before the sun, but make no shadow.

Your next passage held in my tower you must seek.

Before the passing of time makes you too weak.

Sam and Bobby watched in unified horror at the scene being played out in front of them yet again. Looking at that woman, the recognition hit them hard in the face, and they both knew Dean was in more trouble then he could imagine.

"She's not playing fair Bobby."

"Did you think she would?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dean was exhausted. Physically and mentally exhausted He'd been walking all day in the scorching hot sun with no food and no water, save for the little he'd just had from the river in front of him. The little rescue mission in said river didn't help matters much either, leaving him soaked, sun burnt, and sore. He needed to sleep, even if just for a little while. If he could just recharge, he'd be able to continue this ridiculous game of life or death. The only problem with that was he had no idea how much time he had left until it was 'game over'. Note still in hand, he leaned against one of the trees on the riverbank, intending on resting his eyes for just a minute. Unfortunately, Lily didn't give him a minute.

"Um, Dean, you feel alright? You look a little, well, I guess, off, you're like, all gray."

Dean looked at the woman like she was speaking some crazy foreign tongue, not really comprehending what she meant. She'd known him all of five minutes, how the hell would she know how he was supposed to look.

"Yeah, well, hell's prison didn't have a lot to choose from in the fashion department. It was this or flesh tone birthday suit."

"No, I didn't mean that, I meant your face, it's like it's losing its color, like your turning, well, gray. I don't know how else to describe it. A minute ago you were all red, now you're just…"

"Gray?"

The minute the word came from his mouth, the note in his hand felt like a hot coal, trying to burn it's way through his flesh. As he watched the letters rearranging themselves, his message had been replaced by something else, something much more ominous.

Measure your time wisely, Dean.

When the color of life ceases to exist in you,

Then life shall cease to exist in you too.

You know not what shade of gray will bring your demise,

Leaving Sam to me as my prize.

"Come on lady, you gotta be f'n kidding me. What am I, some 'Pleasantville' reject? I'm way better looking then Tobey Maguire. Not very original, are you?" Dean screamed into the dark, pretty sure his demonic host was listening to his every word.

Looking at the note again, and knowing he better get his ass moving, he analyzed it a little more carefully this time. "Strong, weak, makes no shadow. Gotta be the wind, but what's with the tower? What the hell is a wind tower? Wait, hey Lily, how long have you been wandering around here?"

"Feels like forever. I must have walked for miles and miles."

"Do you remember seeing a windmill?"

"Yeah, I passed one a while ago. Couldn't tell you where it was, but it was starting to get dark when I passed I, so it can't be very far. Why?"

"Can you take me to it?"

"What for? Do you think it has a phone? Maybe we could call for help, or something. I knew I should have stopped there."

Dean knew there was no phone on earth that could take a call from hell, and was pretty sure this girl was totally clueless as to what was going on. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out if he knew her, or if she was just an innocent pawn in this ridiculous cat and mouse game. He let out a deep sigh, and just looked at her for a minute, actually studying her from head to toe. She had long, red hair, and beautiful green eyes. Her voice had a soft, naïve, almost childlike tone, but also seemed slightly familiar, though Dean was not quite sure where he'd heard it before. Had they been in another place, at another time, he probably would have made a move on her. But this was neither the place nor the time, and Dean didn't know exactly how much of it he had left.

"I wouldn't count too much on that, sweetheart. But we'll be one step closer to getting the hell out of here, I think."

"You think? Do you know something I don't know? Do you know where we are?"

"I got a pretty good idea, and saying we're in the middle of nowhere would be a major understatement. If we have any hope of getting out of here, we need to get to that windmill, and we need to get there now."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam lay on his bed, finding it almost impossible to keep his eyes open. He forced them to continue focusing, not wanting to take his eyes off his brother. And he was dying of thirst. He drank one glass of water after another until his stomach felt like it would burst, and still, he couldn't quench the horribly dry feeling in his throat. His face felt like it was on fire, like he'd fallen asleep, face-up, under the hole in the earth's ozone layer.

Bobby could do nothing but feel helpless. There was nothing he could do for Sam, other then bring him more water when he asked, and help him into the bathroom when nature called, and there was absolutely nothing he could for Dean. He had never felt so useless in his entire life.

As exhausted as he was, Sam was the first to notice the change in Dean. The black and white movie suddenly had some color to it. It was only a slight addition of hue, and only in the figure of his brother. The shades of gray in him had been replaced with the slightest hint of pink and red.

"Bobby, do you see that, or am I hallucinating?"

"No Sam, I see it too, and I'm not sure I like it."

Bobby was pretty sure Sam had just been watching, but not listening to what was going on. It was taking everything he had in him just to stay conscience. But Bobby had heard every word, and had heard the warning. He knew the more vibrant Dean became, the closer to the end he was.

"Where's he going now, Bobby?" Sam asked him, eyes closed now.

"Following his next lead."

"Did he figure it out?" Sam was barely whispering now, sleep almost overtaking him completely.

"Yeah Sam, he figured it out. You should sleep, I'll keep my eye on him for ya."

"No, I need to see everything. I need to know what's going on. It may be the last time I see him alive."

"Have a little faith in your brother, Sam. He may just get himself out of this."

"I hope you're right Bobby, I don't think I can do this without him."

Conversation finally sapping the remainder of strength he had, Sam had fully dozed off. Bobby knew that Sam hadn't heard what was really at stake should Dean fail, but he had heard every word. And he finally knew why Dean was so willing to play this crazy game in the first place.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean wasn't sure if he could walk another step. He'd been walking all day, and now he'd been walking all night, or so it seemed. Lily led the way, and Dean was finding it harder and harder to keep up with her. For someone that had been traveling around this insane world as much as he had today, she sure seemed to have a plethora of energy left in her. They walked in relative silence, Lily asking Dean the occasional question, him grunting a two or three word answer.

"There it is, we're almost there." Lily pointed off into the distance, and if possible, increased her pace. Seeing their destination looming in the distance, Dean, too, found the energy to step it up a bit. It didn't take them long to reach it once they'd finally found it. The steel monstrosity loomed over them like a giant, it's enormous blades standing motionless.

"Ok, I'm here, now what?"

Dean just wanted to sit, fatigue taking its toll. He was positive he couldn't move another step. Why wouldn't she just let him rest, even for a minute?

"Uh, Dean. There's something up there, at the top. I think you're going to have to climb up there to get it."

"Ok, so now I gotta play Spiderman. Tobey double feature. If I ever see that Maguire dork, I'm so kicking his ass."

Standing at the base and looking up, he saw it too. He also saw that it was a very long way up. After a couple of deep breaths, he reached for the bottom, and started his ascent. It was slow and awkward due to the aches and pains he had. One foot at a time he climbed, until he was finally at the top. Reaching out to grab what he hoped would be his last obstacle, he lost his grip on the girder he'd been hugging for balance when the wind started blowing, and the blades started turning. Scrambling for anything to hold onto, his hand found the worst possible spot it could have.

The steel splinter protruding from the metal beam drove itself straight through his hand, and out the other side, impaling itself through his flesh and bone. The shock of sudden pain made his already weak knees buckle, tearing the soft tissue in his hand even more. Blood coursing down his arm, he wrapped his free hand around another steel beam in a death grip. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he pulled his hand free from the sickening metal spike, blood pooling in his palm and dripping to the ground. He hugged the structure tight, trying to regain some composure.

"Sorry Sammy, that one's really gonna smart. Hope it doesn't include a case of tetanus, that would suck ten-fold."

Finally feeling steady enough to let at least one arm free, Dean reached for the envelope one more time, finally grasping it and pulling it free from its resting place. Now, all he had to do was climb down. Stuffing the cursed item into the waist of his pants, he slowly made his way back to the ground below. His hand was bleeding at a steady pace, making what little grip he could muster with it even more tenuous. Finally reaching the bottom, he dropped to his knees, and then fell onto his back into the soft grass.

Lying there, his breath coming in heavy pants, he didn't have the energy to read what was inside. Gathering what little strength he could, he tore it open anyway. Reading aloud,

No legs have I to dance,

No lungs have I to breathe,

No life have I to live or die,

And yet I do all three.

Once you have created me,

Your next clue you shall see.

"This is getting real old, real fast."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The scream of pain was blood-curdling. Bobby had never heard anything like it, and in his long history of hunting, he'd thought he'd heard everything. He also had an even harder time believing it had come from Sam. It was worse than a banshee trying to screech out 'La bohème' with strep throat. Bobby was grateful that nobody else could hear him, being pretty sure the room had been shut off entirely from the outside world. And the minute to screaming started, the blood started flowing. Sam had grasped the bloody wrist with the opposite hand, squeezing it tight, it leaving trail of crimson across the lightly colored comforter. Finally, the screaming subsided to heavy breathing, occasional moaning, and a heavy brow sweating.

"Jesus Christ Bobby, what now?"

"At least you only got nailed through one hand, Jesus got 'em both," Bobby stated, already wrapping Sam's hand in one of the white towels from the bathroom. It instantly turned a deep shade of red, almost to the point of looking black.

"I must have dozed off, and that was a pretty shitty way to be woke up. What the hell happened, Bobby?"

"Dean cut his hand, looks pretty bad too. But before you go getting all worked up, he's ok. Just relax, you can't do anything right now anyway. You're weaker then a half-dead kitten, and getting all excited isn't gonna help matters any."

"Bobby, I don't think I could get worked up if I tried. Can you help me sit up, please? I need to see what's going on."

"Sam, nothing's going on right now, there's nothing to see."

"Bobby, please just help me sit up against the headboard, please. I can't sleep anymore anyway. Not after that."

Bobby did as Sam asked, propping him up against the headboard with the pillows behind his back. Rewrapping Sam's hand in a fresh, clean towel, since he'd already soaked the first one through, he was thankful to see that the bleeding had slowed. What Bobby couldn't figure out where it was coming from. There was no hole in Sam's hand, and yet, there was blood everywhere. 'This is fucked up' he thought to himself.

"Bobby, is she still following him?"

"Yeah Sam, she's still with him."

Bobby didn't have the stomach to tell Sam that she was probably leading him into a trap. Why else would she be leading him like a dog in a leash. And why was it taking Dean so long to figure her out for what she was. As young as he was, he had the best hunters instincts he'd ever seen, but right now, his demon radar was not at full capacity. He normally would have spotted her a mile away, seeing the invisible neon sigh flashing 'DEMON' over her head. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe she was just that damn good. Or bad. Or good at being bad.

"What's he doing?"

"I think he's resting, he needs to. He hasn't sat for more then five minutes since this all started. He's gonna kill himself, and you, if he doesn't."

Bobby could already see that Dean was physically near his breaking point. It also didn't escape him that the blood seeping from Dean's mangled hand was a bright shade of red. It stood out in sharp contrast to the black and white still surrounding him. His entire being stood out even more as well, from the burnt color of his face, to the darkening color of his hair. And Bobby was pretty sure he could see the hazel in his eyes.

They watched him as he dragged himself up, slowly and painfully pressing on. He moved like an old man riddled with arthritis, but he wouldn't stop. He just kept doing what he needed to do to get to the end. Sam had no idea Dean knew the things he did, hell, some of them, he didn't even know. They watched for what seemed like hours, but had no real concept of what time it even was. The sun hadn't risen or set not once during this whole ordeal began. The room was bathed in total darkness the entire time.

"Look at him Bobby, I don't think he has much time left. And what is he doing? Oh god, I don't want to see this…"

Sprawled out on the ground, Dean just let his arm fall limply to his side, as his next instructions landed loosely next to him. He was trying to get his brain to process what he'd just read, but every minute he lay there, it just got harder and harder. He was so tired, his mind couldn't focus on anything, other then his throbbing hand and sleep deprived body.

"Dean, are you alright? You're really bleeding, let me help you." She waved a finger at him like a scolding mother, "No peeking."

Telling Dean 'No peeking' was like telling a priest not to pray on Sunday. He couldn't help but stare at her as she lifted her shirt over her head, laid it on the ground, and raggedly tore the bottom half off. He stared at her figure while she recovered herself with the remnants. The shirt barely hiding her attributes underneath, it took all Dean had in him not to reach out and touch her. She knelt down next to him, and taking his hand in hers, she gently tried to wipe away the blood that was still flowing down his arm, although not as freely as it had been. He let a slightly hitched breath escape his lips when she touched it, not wanting to acknowledge how much it actually hurt. And knowing that Sam must be in agony right now, well, that hurt him even more.

"I need to find some water and wash this out so it doesn't get infected."

"It's fine. Just wrap it up, I have more important things to worry about right now."

The improvised bandage being soaked with Dean's blood already, Lily had to find something else to wrap the battered, bloody, hand with. Standing and grabbing hold of her pant leg around mid-thigh, she ripped the entire lower half off, exposing her long, smooth leg. She wrapped it firmly around Dean's hand and wrist, knotting it tightly for good measure.

He flashed her his best _'Thank You' _smile, and dragged his weary body off the ground. Searching the area for something, anything he could use to do what needed to be done.

"Dean, what are you looking for?"

"Old, dead branches, or dried grass, or dead weeds. Anything that will burn. And I need a rock, like quartz, or something. Can you help me find some?"

"What for? I thought we were going inside to see if there's a phone."

"Trust me, there's no phone. Fire dances, fire breathes, and fire has life, and right now, I need to build one. Will you help me or not?"

"You don't think there's something inside you can use? Let's just check it out."

"I think the safest place for us right now is right here."

"Fine, but if you won't check it out, I will."

Lily turned, and started sprinting for the tiny structure attached to the base of the windmill. Shaking his head, Dean took off after her in a ambling walk, his legs refusing the command his brain gave them to run. By the time he caught up with her, she had already tried the door, and was peering through the one and only window, trying to get a good look inside.

"Can you open the door? I think there's something in there."

Raising his foot with the almost non-existent energy he had left, he kicked at the door. It swung open with ease, revealing the contents of what must be a shed of some kind. A couple bales of hay, and a couple logs of dried wood were all Dean could see that would be of any use to him. The rest was just junk. Venturing in, he pulled a handful of the hay out. It was brittle, and bone dry. It would be perfect. Now, he just needed to find a damn rock. Turning to leave, his foot kicked something hard, and it went sailing across the room, hitting Lily's foot and stopping dead in front of her. Picking it up and examining it, she held it out to him.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

It was a multicolored gray, with sharp, hard edges on all sides. And it was perfect. Dean smiled, the results of the search pushing him forward.

"It's exactly what I'm looking for. Grab a log, let's build a fire."

Dean took his needed supplies to the side of the steel monstrosity towering above them. Placing the dried hay atop the wood log, he balanced it carefully on the ground under the lowest steel girder. Pointing the sharpest tip of the rock outward, Dean began pounding it against the steel of the windmill, sparks flying with each strike he made. He struck the beam harder and faster, sparks flying bigger and brighter each time, until he saw the hay start to smolder. Dropping the rock, he fanned the ignited tinder with his hand, watching the smoke rise, stronger and faster. The more smoke it made, the more hay he added, until finally, he had flames.

"Lily, get more hay, I need to get this bitch burning a little hotter," Dean asked, and Lily responded, immediately going inside and dragging the entire bale out with her.

Dean just shook his head, he didn't really need all of the hay, but, what the hell, why not. He gently placed his slightly flickering fire onto the bale, continuing to fan it, until the whole bale eventually caught and glowed from the flames. He gently laid the log on top of the now raging blaze, and grabbed a few more from inside for good measure. He piled as many as he could up, making sure they didn't fall over. He had a borderline bonfire going now, and as he stared at it, it seemed to hypnotize him.

Lily had dragged out the remaining hay and spread it out around the ground in soft piles. She placed her hand gently on Dean's shoulder as he was mesmerized by the flames, and gazed at it with him. He suddenly had a feeling sweep over him, and being unable to control it, turned her to face him. With his hand firmly behind her head, let his animal instincts take him over. They landed softly atop the bed of hay, enjoying not just the heat from the fire.

The fire had all but died, and with groggy eyes, Dean saw the bright white object in the midst of the charred, black ash. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but it was still dark, and he was alone. He scanned the area, looking for any sign of her, but found none. He could only hope she'd been sent back to where she belonged, but for some reason, he highly doubted it.

The sleep had done him a world of good. He had some energy back, not much, but enough to get moving again. Reaching for yet another crazy clue, he opened and read yet again.

It needs no fence, yet is always surrounded

Some of its residents seem lost and confounded

They know not where they live, nor where they sleep

Many are always dirty and deep.

"You sure are making this easy, aren't you."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dean remembered seeing it on the way to the windmill. At the time, he'd thought it curious that he'd come across one here, of all places. After all, this was hell, wasn't it? Or that was what he had been led to believe. His mind wandered as he mindlessly put one foot in front of the other. He thought about Sam, and what he must be going through. He knew by now he would have called Bobby, and the two of them would be looking for him. He also knew that they would probably never find him. And what the hell would Sam think was going on when phantom pains wracked his body. That had to be driving him even crazier. The only comforting thought was that Bobby would be there for him. Bobby was always there for them, since their dad had left them. The thoughts in his head were the only things keeping him going, the little bit of energy he'd regained while sleeping quickly sapped once he'd started walking again.

Thoughts of Sam were starting to eat at him, so he shifted his thinking. This time, he thought about Lily. He remembered how he wanted her, grabbing her, kissing her, laying down beside her, pulling her on top of him, her kissing him back, then nothing else until he woke up, and she was gone. He feared that something had happened to her, and it wasn't good. There was something about her that made him want to take care of her, or save he, or bothr.

Thinking about that only bothered him more, so he shifted once again, this time to how little time he had left. Even he had started noticing the changes in himself. His skin was a pale, gray color now. He could see it in his flesh every time he looked at his arms, and when he'd had his shirt off, looking at his own chest slightly sickened him. There was little to no color in the skin anymore. And he remembered the warning. He was pretty thankful that he couldn't see his face, for as much as he liked to look at himself, right now, he was afraid of what he may see. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost walked right past the entrance.

"Why do they put fences around cemeteries anyway. Doesn't keep anything in that wants to get out, and it sure as hell doesn't stop people like me from getting in. And why would you need cemeteries here. Can you kill and bury a soul? I thought once you were here, it was for eternity." Dean didn't care if he was talking to himself, he was pretty sure someone was listening anyway. "Ok, we've been through water, wind, fire, so I guess this would be your idea of earth, right. Is this shitty game finally over, or are we going into extra innings?"

That familiar, disembodied voice spoke to him, seemingly from every direction. "Dean, you've come far, so fast. I am truly impressed. You knew you were more intelligent then you make yourself out to be. However, there seems to be one little thing you have forgotten. The fifth element, most commonly ignored, as it would imply there is something in the world other then physical. And most people don't want to believe in the spiritual, or as you call it, the supernatural. Oh, and the cemetery, well, where do you think the weaker of my kind go once they're exorcised by your kind, or killed? It is possible to kill us, you know. Survival of the fittest applies, even here. The weak are devoured by the strong, making the strong even more powerful. We are not as immortal as you may think, well, some of us are, but not all. Oh well, enough of my rambling. I'm sure you'd like to get on with your final test. Are you ready?"

"Well, since you asked, I could use a nice, juicy steak and some French fries first. Any chance I could score that before we reach our exciting conclusion?"

"And spoil all my fun? No, I don't think so. You have little time left, and a major task at hand. Did you think the end would be easy? That you would be handed your freedom on a silver platter? Maybe you are the fool that others think you are."

"Your best friends are demons, and you call me a fool. You think I haven't figured out who you are yet? Think again. I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly what you're capable of. And if you think I'm going to let you win, you can think again. Give me your best shot, you haven't had much luck yet."

"Such defiant confidence. It excites me. Alright, seek it inside, and if you find it, you can have it. Just pray you can get to it in time."

Dean could sense she was gone, at least she'd made him think she was gone. He was no fool, he knew she was still watching him. He thought about what she'd said.

"I guess I can safely assume she's not referring that really bad Bruce Willis movie when she bitches about the fifth element. What the hell was that about, anyway? Seek it inside she says, she could have at least opened the gate."

With a frown spread wide across his face, he circled the graveyard, looking for the best possible spot to jump the fence. And there really wasn't one. It stood at least ten feet high, the wrought iron pickets adorned with sharp spikes atop each one, with smaller spikes running along the entire length of the wall itself.. With one good hand, the climb would not be easy, and getting over the top without slicing open what he thought was his most important asset, was going to be damn near impossible. But he had to try, he had no other choice.

"Sorry Sammy, hopefully this will be all over soon. You know when they say this is gonna hurt you more then it hurts me, it's not figurative this time."

Settling on a spot at the front gate, Dean decided that was his best bet. The iron work was intricate, but he was pretty sure he could find some good footholds to aid his way up. With two good hands it would be a piece of cake, but not with only one. He'd have to rely on his legs and feet to do most of the work. He started up, one foot finding a decent place to anchor itself, and lifting himself up, found another with the other foot. He repeated this over and over, until he was finally at the top. Steadying himself with the good hand, he swung one leg over, then the other, holding on for dear life. It was too far to jump, and searching with his feet for support, finally found a good hold. He slowly climbed down enough to jump the rest of the way to the ground, landing with a resounding thud and he hit ass first. He'd worked up quite a sweat, and did a great job of tiring himself out completely, but made it over relatively unscathed.

"Mission accomplished. That was for you, Sam. Now what?"

Dean scanned the area, looking for the obvious first. Nothing jumped out at him, nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like every other cemetery in every other crappy little town. Except this one seemed to go on and on. He knew there had to be an end to it, he had circled most of it trying to figure out a way in, but now that he was inside, it was a whole different ball game.

He thought he'd heard someone calling his name, and concentrating hard on the voice, started off in the direction he was sure it was coming from. The more he walked, the louder the voice got, the more clearer it became. He was sure he knew who's it was. When he'd finally found it, he knew he was right.

"Lily, where the hell did you go, and how the hell did you get here?"

"I don't know. I remember being with you, then I woke up here, with another one of these notes for you in my hand. I wish someone would tell me what the hell is going on here. I just want to go home, is that too much to ask. What could I possibly have done to deserve this, huh?"

She clamped her hands over her face, tears streaming out from underneath them. Not knowing what else to do, Dean put his arms around her and just held her, until she'd finally stopped trembling, and he was sure she could breath again. He hated seeing a woman cry, especially when he was sure he was the cause of all this. Rubbing her eyes, she'd finally calmed herself enough to hand over the note she'd been given.

"Please tell me this is the last one, that this is almost over."

Ripping it open, he shook his head and told her, "One way or another, this is the last one."

In life, it was never meant to be tortured or sold,

It leaves you inside feeling dead, empty and cold,

It's precious to none, but to you it's worth more then gold,

It seems well out of your reach and impossible to hold.

Find it in time, and it is yours. Fail, and all that is yours is mine.

Dean dropped to his knees, head slumped, eyes closed. He didn't need to read it twice to know what she was talking about, and how much was really at stake now. With renewed determination, he started searching the cemetery, praying he would know it when he saw it.

Bobby and Sam had both been mortified by the thought of the live action feature they were forced to watch suddenly turning into a porn flick. They ended up being grateful they didn't have to witness what they thought for sure was going to happen. She'd merely kissed him, and he passed out. Then, she was gone, leaving Dean alone before the fire. With Dean asleep, all the pain Sam had been in vanished, like nothing had ever happened. His brother's sleep was the best thing for Sam. As much as he didn't want Dean wasting precious time, he was in desperate need of the temporary reprieve. He wasn't exhausted, or in agonizing pain, at least for the time being. He could finally think with a clear head.

"I don't get it Bobby. If she wants him to lose so bad, why does she keep helping him?"

"Good question Sam. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. I'm just as confused as you are right now. I do think I've finally figured out who she is though, and if I'm right, there are only a few others that are more powerful then her. If she wanted to, she could just snap a finger, and he'd be dead. Either she's taken a liking to him, or she's got some other kind of plan for Dean, I'm sure of that."

"You're not saying she's…"

"Yeah Sam, that's exactly who I'm saying she is. And brace yourself, I think Dean's waking up."

And Bobby was right. The second Dean opened his eyes, Sam felt all the aches, pains, and exhaustion return, only not as severe as it had been before Dean fell asleep. Fully awake, Sam felt a sense of dread when he saw how much more vibrant Dean had become. He was almost in full Technicolor now, indicating how close to the end he was. They watched him open and read the latest riddle, and couldn't believe he just started off on his way again.

"Bobby, have you been able to figure out any of those riddles yet?"

"Yeah Sam, the first one. That was the only one. Maybe it takes a warped mind to decipher the riddles of another warped mind."

Sam had to laugh at that. Bobby was right about one thing, Dean did have a warped mind. He watched Dean walk, step after step, until he could no longer keep his eyes open. The next thing Sam felt wrenched him harder then any other physical pain or torture Dean had inflicted on himself. He saw his brother on his knees, head hung low. The feeling of grief and guilt that washed over him was almost more then he could take, and it made Sam start to cry.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I really appreciate everyone that is reading this, thanks to you all.

Chapter 8

Lily slowly walked up behind Dean, resting a soft hand gently on his shoulder. He looked beat and broken, and not just physically. He was covered in dirt, and sweat, making him look like something he and Sam had just dug up to salt and burn. It was his eyes that told the true tale though. They looked lost and alone as Dean hung his head, trying to bury the emotions that had flooded uncontrollably into him as he read that one, stupid clue and immediately took in its meaning. The emotions had been bottled up inside him for so long, and buried so deep, he'd almost forgotten them until they came back and hit him like a stampede of wild horses. And the horses were trampling him emotionally with every step they took.

"Dean, are you alright? Can I help you? Please, talk to me."

Her touch breaking his thoughts, he slowly rose from his knees, finally able to fully suppress the intense onslaught that had assaulted him. He knew there was only one thing in any world that she could be teasing him with, and she really knew where to hit him where it hurt the most.

"I'm fine. I just need to finish this, and not just for Sam's sake."

"I understand. Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all, just name it."

"No, there's nothing you can do. I'm the only one that can make any of this right."

Forcing his brain to kick itself into gear again, he started up the first row of headstones, examining each one carefully. They had no names, only strange symbols. Dean could only assume it signified who the buried demon was. He had a strange thought come over him. Did demons have loved ones? Did they have families? Did their families come to visit their graves? And how many of them had his father put there? He remembered that night in the cabin, Yellow Eyes confessing to him that he'd killed his son. He wondered which one of these was him.

Row after row, stone after stone, he walked. He'd lost count of how many he'd passed, the insignias all starting to blend together. Occasionally, he'd see one he thought looked familiar, like he'd seen it in one of Bobby's books, but most often they were just a jumbled mess of circles, lines, and odd shapes.

One finally did catch his eye, standing out in the distance. It was simple, it stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of intricate designs, and it was exactly the clue he'd been looking for. He turned and headed towards it, quickening his pace with each step forward he took.

It was the symbol he saw on the stone, it's meaning being obvious in a maze of dead demons.

When he finally came to face the headstone he'd searched so eagerly for, he landed hard on the ground before it, knowing what he needed to do, but not sure exactly how to do it. It was going to be damn near impossible. Physically and emotionally wrecked, he tried to summon the strength to start digging. He didn't know how far down it would be, but he was betting 'six feet under' wasn't just some tired cliché here. Starting at the base of the headstone, one hand after bloody hand, he just dug.

Sam had never screamed more in his entire life then he had since this whole ordeal began, and he'd probably never cried as much either. First, the walk through the desert and Dean smashing head first into a cactus. Then, the pain of having an invisible metal spike driven through his hand, bleeding profusely from a hole that wasn't there. Constantly exhausted. And let's not forget when he'd kissed Lily. What he'd felt for just that brief moment, well, never mind that. He may need therapy for the rest of his life after that one. But the emotional pain he felt right now was worse then all of it combined. He couldn't even watch his brother anymore, it hurt him too much. He stood out like a cartoon character against an old Alfred Hitchcock movie. And he felt the pain he knew was buried deep inside Dean. The hurt he never lets out, never lets anyone see. Witnessing Dean emotionally wrecked and knowing he was feeling it along with him, only added to his own pain, and it was almost more then he could take. The feelings of guilt, grief, worthlessness, self-doubt, and loneliness were unbelievable. Dean put up an incredible front, but behind it was a small, confused child still looking for love and approval.

He was grateful when Dean finally mustered the strength to quickly rebuild the Winchester Wall he was so masterful at putting up in his mind, with the agony and raw emotion tucked safely behind it where it usually resided.

"My god Bobby, is that what he lives with inside him every day? I knew he was hurting, but I never new it was that bad."

"Yeah, well, you get it ten times worse, remember?"

"I remember. And if he lives with one tenth of what I just felt coming from him every day, he's in some serious pain. Why does he need to keep all that inside him? It's gonna kill him someday, I can feel it."

"He keeps it inside him so you don't have to feel it with him Sam. All he's ever wanted to do is protect you, and that means from everything. So he keeps all his hurt stuck up in his craw where even he can pretend it doesn't exist. He's just like your Daddy. John never said anything either, but you knew the hurt was there. You could always see it in his eyes. Just like you can see it in Dean's."

"Well, when he gets out of there, we're so gonna have a nice long talk. I just got bombarded with twenty-eight years of stored up anguish in five minutes, and he's gonna explain every last one of those feelings to me, whether he likes it or not."

"I'd be leaning towards the 'not'. You better make damn sure you hide the weapons first."

"From him, or me?"

"Both."

With some sense or normality finally returning to Sam, he watched his brother mindlessly walk up one row of graves after another, searching for only Dean knew what. He hadn't actually read his latest note out loud, but by the way it made Dean feel, Sam had a pretty good idea what it was. There was only one thing that stirred Dean up that much.

He watched as Dean's face was struck with a look of recognition, the hurried pace he suddenly had in his step, the symbol on the headstone, and the frantic attempt at digging by hand.

When the digging started, so did the bleeding. Bobby was running out of towels to wrap Sam's hand in, it was bleeding so much. And the more Dean dug, the more it bled. But he felt no pain. Dean was in such a frenzied state, he felt nothing. No hunger, no exhaustion, no pain. All he felt was compelling need to get to the bottom of that grave.

"Sam, he may be getting close. You may want to brace yourself for what's to come. If he found what I think he's found, I don't know how it's gonna make him or you feel."

Dean scooped up dirt and hurled it in all different directions. He'd never had to dig up a grave bare-handed before, and was pretty sure he'd never want to do it again. It was hard work with a shovel, but it was arduous without. He also knew he was just about out of time. He could feel it. He didn't care though, it only spurred him on to go faster. His arm was blood drenched, but he didn't give that a second thought either. The bleeding had finally stopped anyway, the hole in his had sealed up tight by the mud that had packed itself inside it. He was so close now, and he couldn't let what he knew was buried deep beneath him slip away.

He'd gotten a good four feet down, when he collapsed, chest tight, finding it hard to take in any air. He struggled to sit up, struggled to breath, struggled to cry out, but found enough breath to form just one word.

"No!"

"No what, Dean? Your time's almost up. I'm afraid you just weren't fast enough. Rules are rules, you know."

"Just let me finish, please. After all this, it can't end now," he managed to spit out, still trying to catch a full breath.

"Oh, all right. Your begging appeals to my softer side. Just because you have such a fighting spirit, I'll turn my back for just a few more minutes, but keep that between us, won't you. Some others around here may think I'm getting soft, and I can't let that happen. Besides, I said your time was almost up, I didn't say it was. I really just wanted to hear you beg, I like it in the tone of you voice."

Suddenly, Dean could breath again, and ignoring the anger welling inside him, he frantically returned to his digging. He worked feverishly, faster then he had at the start. Fear was a great motivator. Fear of losing Sam, fear of losing what was almost in his reach. Finally, he hit something hard, and he scrambled to brush the remaining dirt off the top. With a firm grip on the lid, he ripped open the casket, praying he'd been right about what was inside. Looking down, he could only let out a long, harsh cry.

"Dean," the gruff voice said to him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Dad."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sam watched as he felt the adrenaline build stronger and stronger inside him, until he felt like he was about ready to burst. He couldn't seem to sit still, and got up to start pacing the room, directly in front of the TV. Back and forth, left to right, faster and faster as he scratched his head, rubbed his chin, clenched his fists, or shook his head. He was starting to drive Bobby crazy.

"Sam, you make a better door then a window. Can you take the pacing somewhere else, so I can see what the hell's going on?"

Temporarily oblivious to Bobby's presence, he paused, stared at him for a second, and tried sitting back down. Tried being the key word. He was planted firmly on the edge of the bed, but his legs were shaking hard and fast, almost making the whole room vibrate.

"Sorry Bobby, I'm just really hyped up, can't seem to calm myself down. I wish he'd get this over with, I think I'm gonna explode any second."

As Sam was speaking, his brother's frantic digging has stopped, and he paused, only momentarily, staring at the bottom of the hole he'd just dug. As Dean brushed away the dirt, and yanked open the lid, everything on the screen flashed into brilliant color. Gone was the black and white background, it replaced with real life vividness. Everything was vibrant now, his brother finally blending in with a color backdrop the way he should.

Then Sam felt more of Dean's emotions hit him like a ton of bricks falling from a high rise. Only this time, not the grief, fear, or loneliness, but relief, hope, and something else he'd never thought his brother would ever feel again. The tears started flowing once more, only not from sorrow. They poured down his face like a tidal wave, and Sam didn't really want them to stop.

"I see it, but I don't believe it," Bobby couldn't' help but say out loud.

The feelings Sam now wanted so eagerly to hold on to had all but disappeared as she started talking to his brother again. _'Damn if I'm not gonna hunt her down and kill her myself!' _Sam couldn't help but think. The fear was back again, slowly building up with each passing moment, with each word she spoke. And he hated her, more than anything on the planet right now.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

The sound of applause grabbed Dean's attention away from his father, now trying to pull himself from his prison of dirt. As he looked up, he saw her, perched atop the headstone, like a bird of prey ready to swoop down and devour it's next victim.

"Congratulations, Dean. You've finally revealed your prize. You are so clever, figuring out each one of those riddles with ease. I am truly impressed at all of your talents. I had fun, watching you every step of the way, you were extremely entertaining." She'd left her spot on the grave marker, slowly walking up to look Dean in the eyes, her face mere inches from his. Gliding a finger under his chin and softly caressing his face, she continued, "Oh, and don't worry about last night, in front of the fire. Trust me, nothing happened, although, it would have been fun to see just how far your talents extend."

"I knew it had to be you, Lily. That's what your calling yourself these days? New variation of an ancient evil, right? Trust me, you couldn't have handled me last night, or any other night. Now when do we get to check out of your little 'Hotel California'?"

"Aw, Dean, what's the rush? I mean, don't you have some catching up to do with your dear, old, dad there? It's been so long since you've seen each other. And what finally gave me away? I thought I really had you going, helping me, comforting me, protecting me, it was so touching, do Dean."

"What gave you away? When I mentioned Sam, that's what. I never once whispered Sam's name to you, but you didn't even flinch when I finally did. You even looked excited when I said it. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Guess you got me. Can't say I didn't try."

"Try harder next time. Takes a lot to screw with a Winchester."

"Apparently not, since daddy is right there, looking like a deer in the headlights." She turned her head, addressing John this time. "John Winchester, how have you been enjoying your stay with us. On second thought, don't answer that."

With a wave of her hand, John's mouth suddenly sealed up tight, looking almost like he'd never had one. He grabbed at his face, desperately trying to speak, but no words could escape his sealed up lips. Dean stared in horror as his father scratched and clawed, each movement as unsuccessful as the last.

"Oh John, please stop that. It's somewhat disturbing. Just sit down, and listen, will you please. Dean and I have a few more things to hash out. We're not quite done yet."

John was forced down to the ground, seemingly unable to move. His eyes followed her every step, but the rest of him remained motionless.

"It seems we have a slight problem, Dean. I know I told you that if you won, you'd be rewarded handsomely, but I seem to have forgotten one, minor detail."

Staring at his father with a look of almost sheer horror, Dean tried to ignore his current thoughts. He had no intentions of letting her know what he felt at this particular moment. One way or another, he had to get then both out of there.

"What's that, that you're an evil, deceptive, lying piece of shit? That you and your kind would do anything to hurt my family? That you get your rocks off torturing us? Did I leave anything out?"

"Dean, why do you continue to hurt my feelings? I do have them, you know. And no, that's not the problem, anyway. I fully intended on giving your father back to you, should you have won. I do have that power, but unfortunately, I have no body to put him back into. It seems that you and Sam took care of that yourselves. It was a beautiful funeral pyre, by the way. I watched it with some others and a bag of popcorn. You two did such a beautiful job preparing the body, covering it in salt, wrapping it up nice and tight, and, burning his dead remains. You did it so well that nothing but some bone fragments and ashes were left. Do you still have them tucked away safe and secure in the trunk of your car, where even Sam doesn't know that their there. So, what's a girl to do? You didn't leave me much to work with. So, what do you think Dean? What do you think we can do to solve that?"

Dean couldn't stifle the overwhelming feeling of defeat that seemed to be suffocating him. He knew he wasn't getting out of here whole. The pieces of his soul that had been torn apart when his father died were seemingly right in front of him, but just didn't fit back together anymore, and it was killing him. His father was here because of him, he knew that for sure. He also knew he'd do anything to change it, if he could. Anything.

Like she sensed his thoughts, she continued her verbal barrage, each word hurting more with each breath he took. His stomach clenched tight as he saw she wasn't even close to being done yet.

"Dean, look at him. He made the ultimate sacrifice for you, giving up his own soul so you could live. Too bad he didn't know what he was taking you away from by forcing you to continue living your pathetic life. Your mother was waiting for you Dean, did you know that? Guess it's too late now though. So, here he is, suffering unimaginable tortures every day, every night, never ending."

Dean dropped to his knees, all his energy lost. Staring at his father, he couldn't stand hearing what she was spewing, knowing that every word she spoke was true, but not wanting to face it. When he saw the look in John's eyes, he was pretty much done in.

"No, he made that choice, and I had to live with it. There was nothing I could have done, I had no control over what he did. I was ready to go."

"True, but you will always know that he's the one that should be there with Sam and living his life, as meaningless as it was, and not you. His life wasn't meant to end the way it did. And your life was meant to end a long time ago. He should have never even been put in that situation in the first place. You shouldn't have even been alive for him to sell his soul for, or have you forgotten. At least he died willingly for you though, that's more then you can say for that other poor fellow, isn't it."

Dean knew he couldn't listen to anymore. The pain inside him was torturous. If this is what hell was like, and what his father went through every day, he knew he couldn't just leave him here. Like a child, he covered his ears as tears welled in his eyes. He laid down on the hard, cold ground, curling himself up into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. He didn't want the world to see him anymore.

"Please, stop. I'll do anything, just stop. I can't take it anymore."

"You'll do anything? What does that mean, you'll do anything, Dean?"

"Send him back, in my place."

"Are you saying you'd take your father's place here, that you're willing to sacrifice your own soul so he can live again?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea what you're agreeing to?"

"Yes. Let him live, I should be dead anyway. I don't deserve it. Keep me, send him back."

"Oh Dean, that's music to my ears. I don't know how to thank you."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Please be advised that this story is posted and complete at another website and has been since September. Any similarities to any actual characters from the last few episodes are ...well...whatever.

Chapter 10

Sam couldn't believe is eyes. He couldn't believe he was actually looking at his father. He'd seen him climb out of the hole Dean had so crudely dug with his bare hands, heard her address him by his full name, and yet, he couldn't seem to wrap his brain around what he was seeing. He also couldn't wrap his brain around what he was hearing, either. She was taunting Dean relentlessly, each word she spoke driving a pain deeper and deeper into his heart, into his soul. He felt every jab she took at him, and it made him feel like he just wanted to die. His heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, each one being crushed under an unbearable weight. He wished he could take all his brother's pain away, but knew he never could. She was ruthless, her words more and more malicious with each one that came out. Sam could see Dean had reached the end of his rope, witnessed him starting to sink, and knew he was going to drown.

He also knew that everything he felt right now came from, and him alone. The connection between Dean and Sam had been broken somehow. Sam knew she must have done it, and maybe he should be grateful. When he saw his brother lying on the ground, curled in a ball, shivering, dying, he knew that would have killed him. Then he heard Dean answer her inhuman barrage, and knew things just went from bad to worse.

"No, Dean. Please, don't."

It was all Sam could say before dropping to his knees, his own tears streaming down his face this time. And in a blinding flash of light from the screen, his brother's desperate begging and his father's silenced protesting was the last scene he'd see.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She stared at her plaything as he writhed in total emotional turmoil on the hard ground. She knew she'd won, and for that, she was grateful. She was not happy about the way she had to do it, but she felt the ends justified the means. With the wave of her hand, a blinding flash of light struck, and everything disappeared. Dean, John, everything. She stood in what appeared to be some kind of chamber, and turned to face the fuming figure that stood next to her.

"I have won, Samael, of great king of demons. I claim myself as victor, and demand my reward. He has completed every task you have demanded, just as I knew he would. I told you he'd do anything for his family, even die for them, just like his father did for him. I also told you that he loves his father as much as his brother, or even more, and would trade himself willingly. How could you ever have doubted that?"

"You did have to do quite a bit of convincing to do at the end, didn't you? Are you sure he gave himself willingly?"

"Oh, I'm sure. My words had nothing to do with his decision. He made that the moment he knew he could give himself in trade. Now, I know you will keep your word, won't you, and give me what's mine?"

"Lilith, you doubt my integrity?"

"You are the original fallen angel, are you not? I should think you have no integrity."

"What is your obsession with being mortal, my dear? You are the queen of all demons, and yet, you wish to live among those filthy pieces of flesh. Why?"

"Because those 'filthy pieces of flesh' are more intriguing then all of the evil in hell combined. I want to experience what they do, live like they do, feel like they do. I would never expect you to understand. Haven't you witnessed enough here alone to want to live like them, even for just a little while."

"So, your bored. Is that it? Just go up there and possess one then. Live through one of them, don't become one."

"It could never be the same. We have no feelings other then hate, and loathing, even for each other. We live to hurt, kill, and destroy. We could never feel the things that they do. My wish was to be mortal. You challenged me, I accepted. My pawn has taken your king, and you are in checkmate. Give me what I rightly deserve, and what Dean has earned. That was part of the bargain, after all."

"Dean has earned nothing yet. There were five challenges, remember? He agreed to play your game, he solved all your riddles, he freed his father, and agreed to give up his soul to save his dear old dad and Sam, but you seem to have forgotten one thing. He never called you by name. If he's so sure he's figured you out, he must call you by name for me to be certain. I guess your game is not quite over yet. What is this obsession you have with these Winchesters, anyway?"

"I admire their strength, and commitment to one another, even after our son has all but destroyed them. He's a vengeful child. I'm just returning what should have never been taken in the first place. He overstepped his bounds with that deal. I plan on setting it right before I leave."

"And leave you shall, once the last task is complete. Just remember, once you leave here, you can't come back. You will wander the earth forever, until God decides what to do with you."

"Guess I better start my penance now then. What's a couple more millennium? At least they won't be spent here."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The flash of light had been brilliant, it shocking Dean from his tortured thoughts. He was no longer lying on the dirty ground, no longer in the filthy cemetery, and no longer in the presence of his father. He was also in more kinds of pain then he could possibly imagine. Every inch of his body hurt. He was exhausted well beyond the point of no return. His heart had been ripped in two, sewn back together, then ripped apart again, only to be shoved back into his chest in pieces. He was a totally broken man.

He was floating in that empty, black void again, right back where he started from. He was almost thankful. He didn't want to hear the sound of his own breathing, or the sound of his own pulse in his ears. He just wanted to get this over with. Once he knew his father was back with Sam where he belonged, he didn't care what she did to him, so he floated in the void, and waited.

"Dean, we are not quite through, you and I. You must do one more thing before I release your father, giving him back what's rightly his." Her voice was soft and soothing. It sounded like she was trying to comfort him, make him feel like everything would be alright.

"What? Just tell me, and I'll do it. But I want to see for myself."

"Like father, like son. I guess it's true that apples don't fall far from the tree. So mistrusting. Oh well. Pledge yourself to me, and me alone. Then your father will be free."

"What? Have the fires of hell totally fried your brains, or were you just created stupid?"

"No to either. It's a simple request. It will give you everything you want, and it's just a few simple words. If you know me, you'll pledge yourself to me. It's that simple. Promise to serve me for all eternity."

"Lady, you got real ego complex. Fine, if my dad goes, I promise to serve the Queen of Hell for all eternity. Happy now?"

"Not quite. 'Queen of Hell' is not the name god gave me."

"Guess he didn't look ahead at the big picture, did he?"

"No, the guy can't take a joke either. Bans you to hell for all eternity when you piss him off. You'd do well to remember that, Dean. Just get on with it, will you."

"Fine, I pledge to serve Lilith, Queen of Hell, for all eternity. Pastor Jim would be so proud of me, I did listen to him when he talked, sometimes."

"There, was that so bad?"

"You really want an me to answer that?'

In another blinding flash of light, Dean found himself lying naked on a hard, cold surface. He couldn't help but shiver as his body finally started giving in the exhaustion it felt. His mind was so clouded, his thoughts so scattered, he wasn't sure what was going on around him. He knew one thing without a doubt. Pain was pain, no matter where you were. Everything still throbbed, from head to toe. His eyes started drifting shut, grateful for the first time in days to be closed, and his brain just shut itself off.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It seemed like forever since the screen had gone blank, both Sam and Bobby sitting in silence. Until the harsh flash of light from under the bathroom door invaded the room. They looked at each other, both wanting to race in, neither sure of what they'd find.

"Bathroom's the god damn gateway Sam. Either she's in there, or she sent something back. You ready to look?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

They both stood in front of the door, but it was Bobby that had to open it. Sam just couldn't bring himself to do it. He swung in fast, the door only opening a few inches before hitting hard against something blocking it on the floor. He squeezed his head in the opening enough to see the bruised, battered, and bloody form of Dean, still curled up in the tight ball they'd seen him in before everything went lights out.

"Shit. I can't get the door open Sam. Can you squeeze in there and move him so we can get him out?"

When Bobby moved out of the way, Sam shoved through the little space he had, driving the door even harder into his unconscious brother's body. He didn't care, he just wanted to make sure he was still alive. What was one more bruise? They covered his body anyway. Holding his breath, he felt for a pulse. He knew the body in front of him was alive, it was shivering uncontrollably, but he needed to feel the steady rhythm under his fingers to truly believe it. The second he did, he let the breath out, grateful that he was at least alive physically.

"Bobby, give me a blanket. He's freezing." Sam screamed at the older hunter.

Bobby ripped the comforter off what had been Dean's bed, noticing the odd remnants were gone. His ring and necklace still there, but the rest wasn't. He shoved it through the bathroom door, and Sam took it eagerly, draping it across his brother as he tried lifting him up to wrap him in it, almost like a baby. He held Dean's head and shoulder in his lap, rocking him like a sick child. He didn't want to let him go.

"Sam, we need to get him off the floor and into the bed. He needs some kind of medical attention, whether it be us or a hospital."

"No hospital Bobby, Dean would kill me."

"What if it's not him, Sam?"

"What're you talking about Bobby, of course it's him."

"You heard Dean, what he said. What if that's not your brother? He traded himself for John, you heard him."

"I know."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Sam, we can't help him if you won't let go of him. Can we at least get him off the bathroom floor and onto the bed?

Sam's mind was racing. After everything that had happened, the relief he felt at finally having his brother back with him was ominously overshadowed by the uncertainty of who he may actually be holding onto for dear life right now. He did love his father, but he needed his brother. He needed him as much as he needed the air he breathed.

"Sam?"

"I know Bobby. You get his legs."

They picked Dean up together, carrying him to his bed. Sam lowered him slowly, and sat behind him, still cradling him in his lap. He was so still, so lifeless.

Bobby took the trashcan next to the bed, tossed the bag away, and filled it with lukewarm water. He grabbed the last two washcloths left in the room and soaked them. Wringing out one, he handed it to Sam, then wrung out the other for himself. He took Dean's mangled hand, and attempted to clean it.

His hand was caked in bloody mud, and as Bobby tried to clean it, quickly realized it would take more then just some tiny rag to do the job. Holding the wastebasket up to the edge of the bed, he submerged the whole mess into the water, and gently tried loosening the clumps of dirt embedded in it. Sam couldn't help laugh as a memory from long ago crept into his head.

"You know Bobby, Dean used to do that to me when we were kids. It used to make me wet the bed. It really pissed Dad off when he did it too, no pun intended."

As Sam spoke, he tried to wipe the grime from Dean's face, afraid to rub too hard against the burnt, raw flesh. He knew it had to hurt, and knew what Bobby was doing had to be excruciating, yet neither action elicited any type of response, except fear in both Sam and Bobby. He continued to lay there, totally motionless, his breathing the only indication he wasn't dead.

The water in the can now a dirty shade of brown, Dean's hand was finally clean enough for Bobby to take a good look at. It was red, warm, and swollen. It was the three things he didn't want to see. There was a light sheen of sweat across his forehead, and yeah, it didn't escape Bobby that the hand in the water trick didn't do a damn thing to Dean.

"Sam, I know you said no hospital, but he's dehydrated, he running a fever, and his hand's infected. We can't do anything for him if we can't bring him around. What I just did would be enough to wake the dead, but I got nothing. I don't think we have much of a choice. Get some clothes on him, we need to go, and we need to go now."

Sam knew Bobby was right. Dean, or whoever it was he was cradling, needed more help then they could give. He slid out from under his brother's body, laying his head down on a pillow. Digging through Dean's bag, he pulled out boxers and a pair of sweat pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, knowing they'd just cut it off him when they got there anyway. He dressed him quickly while Bobby grabbed the keys to Dean's car. No way they were all fitting into the cab of his truck.

Grabbing the knob, he tried turning it to open the door. It didn't move. He tried forcing it harder, but it just wouldn't give. He looked at Sam, knowing it wasn't over yet.

"Sam, I think we have a problem."

No sooner then the words escaped his lips, the bathroom door slammed shut. The eerie glow gave way to a brilliant burst of light, then it was gone, and all was quiet again. The door to the motel unlatched itself, and drifted open, ever so slightly. The windows were once again clear glass, allowed the light from the moon to cascade in. The little clock on the nightstand reading the exact same time it had when this all began, Sam realized that for all intents and purposes, time had stopped.

Bobby and Sam eyed each other, then the door. They held their breath, waiting for something, anything, to emerge. It was dead silent inside. Bobby crossed the room first, slowly opening the door to peer inside. For the umpteenth time since this all began, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Sam, you may want to come and see this. You're not gonna believe it. You may want to grab a blanket too."

The tone in Bobby's voice made Sam's curiosity jump to the forefront of his brain, and grabbing the comforter off his bed, he opened the bathroom door fully. What he saw really didn't surprise him, he almost sensed it from Bobby's tone of voice. He covered the body on the floor with the bloodstained blanket that had been his, as he and Bobby once again moved more dead weight off the floor and onto a bed.

"I thought she said she couldn't do it. She said she had no body. What's going on Bobby?"

"She lied Sam. That's what they do. She had the power all along, she just wanted to break him, and she did."

With eyes now open, the voice was unmistakable.

"Sam? Bobby? Am I really here?"

Turning and facing the bed, Sam swallowed hard before answering, remembering the last time they were in this situation. That hadn't ended very well. Sitting on the edge, he looked hard into the eyes in front of him before answering.

"Dad, it that you? Really you?"

"Yeah Sam, it's me."

Sam couldn't help himself, and wrapped his arm around the man hard and tight, holding on for dear life, not wanting to let go. His father held him back, not quite believing he was really here right now. He was sure this had to be some kind of trick. Grabbing hold of Sam's arms, he pushed him back enough to look into his deeply saddened eyes.

"What happened? Where are we? Where's your brother?" The last question came out slightly panicked.

"He's here Dad. He needs help, we gotta get him to the hospital."

"That bad?"

Sitting up and seeing the lifeless body of his eldest son in the bed next to him made him feel sick. He'd heard everything she'd said to him. He'd also heard him sacrifice himself for him, and John could only pray that Dean was even in that body still. He feared it may be nothing but an empty shell.

"Sam, get me some clothes, let's get out of here."

Sam tore through Dean's bag once again, tossing his father clean boxers, jeans, a t-shirt, and socks. He would need to wear Dean's jacket and shoes. He wouldn't need them right now, anyway. Sam had put the silver ring back in it's proper place, and draped Dean's pendant back around his neck before they'd wrapped him in the scratchy motel comforter and stowed him in the back seat while John dressed. Sam gathered up the rest of their things, tossed them in the trunk, and waited for his father and Bobby, who were both still inside.

"Bobby."

"John, good to see you."

"Thanks for taking care of my boys."

"They do a fine job on their own, I just help them out once in a while."

John extended his hand, and Bobby took it, any animosity between them long in the past. They had more important things to worry about right now. They both headed out the door, closing it behind them. Bobby had never been happier to be out of one room in his entire life. He did feel a little guilty leaving all those bloodstained towels everywhere, though.

John climbed in the drivers seat, hands held out to Sam for they keys. He handed them over with no argument, and climbed in the back, next to his brother. Sam had a sick feeling of déjà vu come over him, remembering the last time they were all in this car together. He silently prayed this time, it would end better. Bobby climbed in his truck, shouting from the window.

"I'll follow you, where you going?"

"Lincoln, Nebraska. About three hours. Can't go to the hospitals here, not if Dean's still wanted by the state police. Just keep up, we'll be there by sunrise."

John started the engine and peeled out, pushing the car as hard as he dared to. Sam sat in silence in the back seat, not really sure what to say. How do you ask the questions that were all swimming around in his head? He decided to stay quiet, knowing he'd be able to find out in good time.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The three hour trip was made in a little over two, John pushing the car up over 100 mph when they were on open stretches of back roads. Hitting Lincoln, they'd found one of many hospitals just as they entered town. They'd pulled up to the emergency room doors, Sam out of the car before it had stopped, and hollering for someone, anyone, to help him. It was an obviously slow night, and two orderlies and a nurse were with him at the car in a matter of seconds, pulling Dean out, and racing him inside. Sam and John both meant to follow, but just like clockwork, a burly looking nurse stopped them before the could get to the doors.

"We need a little information, please." She shoved paperwork at John, it being obvious he was the one in charge of this little group.

Knowing the routine all too well, Sam took them, sat in one of the chairs at the desk, and filled them out in about all of thirty seconds. He'd done it so many times, he almost had hospital forms memorized. Shoving them back to the chubby woman, he looked her straight in the eyes, his voice hard and firm.

"There are your papers, now where's my brother."

Raising her brows, she was not intimidated by the man towering over her by at least a foot. "You seem to be an old pro at emergency rooms. Guess that means you also know that you'll be waiting here until the doctor comes for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to pass this information along to the people that are trying to save your brother's life. Why don't you have a seat, and let them do their job." She shot him a dirty look, and just walked away.

Knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere, but trying anyway, he resolved himself to waiting. Taking the seat next to his father, the silence between them was almost unbearable. Sam didn't know what to say, and apparently, neither did John. Sam just decided to start with the obvious.

"How do you feel Dad?"

Startled slightly by the break in the thick silence, he thought about Sam's question for just a second before answering.

"I feel alive Sam, and I really don't think I believe it. I have no idea what just happened, and I think the only one that can fill me in is unable to right now. All I know is I'm here, and I can only pray it's to stay."

That pretty much summed it up, and they settled back into their silent waiting. They didn't have to wait very long, as the young man they only assumed was a doctor approached them. He looked all of about sixteen, with wild blonde hair and freckles covering his face. Sam could almost see the surfboard strapped to the top of his car, if they hadn't been in Nebraska, that is.

"Mr. Johnson?"

"Yeah, that's me." John answered.

"I'm Dr. Simon Garfield. Can you answer a few questions for me?"

"How's my boy, doc?"

"He's stable. Can you tell me what happened to him? His injuries seem a little extreme."

Sam broke in, knowing his father had no idea what had happened to Dean.

"We were camping, and we got separated. He's been missing for two days. We searched everywhere for him, but couldn't find him. We were getting ready to call the police, when he stumbled into the campsite, and just collapsed. We got him in the car, and brought him here. Sorry, we just don't know anything else."

"He's extremely dehydrated, and seems to have a mild case of sun poisoning. His face is pretty burnt. Interesting, since it's been raining here for the last three days. Anyway, we've started him on fluids. He's got a pretty high fever, either from the sun poisoning, or the infection in the wound in his hand. You really have no idea how that happened? It has mud embedded inside. We're going to have to open it and flush it out. A good dose of IV antibiotics should clear that up pretty quick. I expect he'll be as good as new in a couple of days. We'll be keeping him here, at least overnight."

"Has he woke up yet?" Sam prayed he'd get the answer he wanted to hear.

"No, not yet, but he seems to have been through a lot. I wouldn't worry, I'm sure he's going to be just fine."

_Not if he's not in there anymore, _John thought. "Can we see him?"

"Sure, follow me."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Bobby tried his best to keep speed with the madman driving the black beast in front of him, but his old pickup as no match for the monster engine housed under that black hood. As the miles went by faster and faster, the distance between them got wider and wider, until he could no see even the glow of tail lights in front of him anymore. It didn't really matter, he knew the way to Nebraska, and he'd have no problem finding them when he finally go there.

He replayed each one of the events over and over in his head, trying to sort them out and make some sense of them. She was powerful, of that Bobby was sure, but what did she want with Sam? What did any of them want with Sam, for that matter. After seeing what had happened, he was beginning to wonder if Sam had been her intended target, or had she really wanted Dean all along. She worked so hard at breaking him down, crushing his soul and stepping on the pieces, and emotionally crippling him. He'd agreed to take his father's place in hell, and she'd almost exploded at the sheer joy that emanated from her when he did so. Now, it seemed, she had him, and if she did, he didn't know if there was any way of getting him back.

He also couldn't understand why, if she wanted him in exchange for John, why she'd sent Dean back, or at least his body, anyway. More fears surfaced at that thought. He'd never seen Dean so limp and lifeless before. John came back, and it didn't take him long to be ready and raring to go, but Dean, he had no life. None. He'd gotten pretty close to the boys in the last few months, and he couldn't stand to see nay of them this way.

The more Bobby wracked his brain, the less he was paying attention to his driving. He'd failed to notice that he was almost out of gas. He knew he'd need to find somewhere soon, or he'd never make it to Nebraska, and he needed to make it there desperately. Thankfully, he wasn't in the middle of nowhere, not yet anyway. Another twenty miles and he knew he'd hit something.

He pulled into the first station he saw, rolling up to the pump as the engine was ready to die.

"Guess it's my lucky day," he snorted, climbing out to fill 'er up.

With the tank now full, he climbed back inside to continue on his trek, feeling sick inside that yet another story in the life of the Winchesters wouldn't have a happy ending. Back in his seat, he started up the engine, thankful to hear it roar to life. He was back on the road, lost in his own thoughts again. So lost in thought, he didn't notice the woman sitting in the truck next to him, until she spoke.

"Hello Bobby."

Once the initial shock wore off, Bobby mentally thanked whatever god there was for not putting any trees on either side of the road he currently traveled, because he knew if there had been, the second she spoke to him, he would have hit one head on. There she was, sitting right next to him in his truck, smiling like the early bird with the worm. He was speechless.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue? I'm sure you have a few choice words for me rolling around in that crazy old head of yours."

Anger flooding over him, Bobby slammed on the brakes, sending her hard into the dash. He grabbed her by the throat, shoving her against the door, not caring that she would probably kill him on the spot. With the truck stopped, he took a moment to compose himself, choosing his words carefully before he spoke.

"What do you want with me, I'm not a Winchester? Haven't you had enough fun for one night, anyway?"

"What I want from you is a lift to Nebraska. Seems I have some unfinished business there. Then I'll be on my way, and out of everyone's hair."

"You want me to take you to Nebraska? I'm not taking you to Nebraska or anywhere else, except maybe back to hell, where you belong."

"Now, we both know that's not going to happen, Bobby. I worked too hard to get out of hell to go back now. Just hear me out, I think you'll change have a change of heart. You drive, while I entertain you with a fascinating story, and we'll see how you feel then. Besides, I am probably the only one that can help."

As Bobby drove, he listened intently to every word she said.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The steady rise and fall of Dean's chest as he took in breath was the only sight for their sore eyes. The rest was not as pleasant. The burnt, raw skin on his face and neck now sported small blisters, scattered here and there. The needle pricks that had covered his chest were their own, separate, angry shade of red. At least the thin sheen of sweat across his brow indicated he'd started retaining some fluids.

"We'll be moving him upstairs in a few minutes. I'd like to keep him here at least until that fever breaks. Hopefully not more then a day or two. You must have a million questions for him, because I know I do. I'm looking forward to talking to him," Dr. Garfield turned, and left them alone.

"Yeah, so are we," John couldn't help let slip out.

Sam couldn't stop the one, lonely tear that trickled down his face at the sight before him. He'd gently lifted a lid, wanting to see his brother's eyes. He needed to see the sparkle that indicated Dean was still there. That wasn't what he saw. What he saw was cold, almost dead, unseeing eyes stare back at him. John saw it too. He put a firm hand on Sam's shoulder, hoping to comfort him, but all it succeeded in doing was crushing what little control he had over himself. He dropped into the chair next to him, face in his hands, and cried. He knew if his brother saw him, he'd never hear the end of it, but he didn't care. In fact, he wished his brother would see it. He'd gladly take that ribbing for the rest of his life if he had to.

Sam forcibly pulled himself together when the orderlies showed up, intent on wheeling Dean away to yet another god awful hospital room. He was sick of hospitals, almost as much as Dean was. They'd mindlessly followed when they were indicated to, into the elevator, and up two floors. Silently trailing behind, they'd watched the men settle Dean in for the duration of his stay, however long that may be.

Finally alone again, they both pulled up a chair, and did the only thing they could do. Wait. Minutes seemed like hours, hours seemed like days. The sun was up and in full force, brightly flooding the room with it's sparkling cheer. Sam wanted none of it, and closed the shades and turned off the lights, making the room as dark as possible. He hadn't really slept in what felt like days, and topping that with the headache that currently had a firm hold on his brain, the damn bright light was just too much to take. It was also making his mood pretty foul, and that didn't help when John finally decided to talk to him.

"Sam, I know you don't want to hear this, but we need to prepare for what might be coming."

"And what would that be, Dad? That his body is alive, but he's dead inside? How do you expect me to prepare for that? As long as he's breathing, there has to be something we can do."

Looking at his brother, then his father, he was struck with more déjà vu, remembering the last time they were in this situation too. Thinking about what his father had done that time only seemed to anger him more. It was like the last several months never happened, and they were right back where they started from, only this time with even fewer options then before.

"I don't know if there is anything we can do. If she's got him in hell with her, he's there to stay, son. Nothing we do can bring him back from that."

"You just want to give up? You just want to let him die? I can't do that Dad. You don't know what it was like when you died. He was so hurt, and angry, and it tore him up inside. He blamed himself for everything. And on top of that, you lay this big secret on him, telling him he may have to kill me. What the hell was that? Do you really think he'd be able to do it? How dare you lay something like that on him, then do what you did."

"I did it for him Sam. I couldn't think of any other way."

"Did you even try? There had to be other options, but you didn't even look. There had to be a better way."

"Don't you think I wracked my brain for any another way? Do you think I would have done that if I had any hope at all? I couldn't let your brother die Sam, I would have done anything to save him."

"Yeah, well, what are you gonna do now? What's gonna save him this time?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bobby pulled into the ER parking lot, spotting the Impala in a matter of minutes. He thanked god yet again, and found a spot to park. As he walked at a rather hurried pace inside, he realized he had no idea what name they'd have given this time. Sure as hell wasn't Winchester, that he knew for a fact. He pulled out his phone, dialing Sam's number. Straight to voicemail, no big surprise. He headed for the desk, trying to figure out how he was going to get the information he needed without sounding like some crazy man.

"Can I help you, sir?" A cute, young nurse looked at him with her sad, doe eyes.

"I hope so. Young man would have been brought in a few hours ago, only go his first name. Dean. I have some of his personal belongings, want to return them. Can you give me any information? I'd like to see how he's doing."

"Hmm, let me see. I'd be willing to bet we got more then one Dean here right now. You said he was brought in today?"

"Early this morning. Father and brother were with him. Think they're still here too, I saw their car outside."

"Ok, here, Dean Johnson, admitted a couple hours ago. That him?"

"Young guy?"

"Yeah, says here Dad is John."

"That's him. Can you give me a room number?"

"222. Up the elevator, turn left. Evens will be on your right. Hope everything's alright."

"Me too. Thanks for your help."

Bobby climbed into the elevator and headed up. Turning left as instructed, he knew he wouldn't have a very hard time finding the room. All he had to do was follow the angry voice of Sam down the hall. Letting himself into the room, he shut Sam as he spoke.

"You two wanna keep in mind you're in a hospital? You haven't even been together a full day and your already at each other's throats. Nothing ever changes, does it?"

"Bobby, where have you been? What took you so long to get here?" Sam was relieved to see he'd finally made it here. If he didn't have Dean to mediate, at least he'd have Bobby.

"Your not gonna believe me. Guess who I ran into on my way here."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"So, what you're telling me Singer, is that this was all a scam she dreamed up to con her way out of hell?"

"No scam John, if Dean had lost, she would have taken Sam, just like she said she would. She wasn't lying about that. She would have given him in trade for her freedom, and they would have gladly taken him. But Dean didn't lose. She was betting on him to win, and he did. That's how she got out. It was a win/win situation for her either way."

"What about me, where do I fit into all of this?"

"She served you up as a prize to Dean just to piss them off one last time. Sending you back was her way of saying a final 'fuck you' before she left."

"So, thanks to us, the queen of hell is free to roam the earth, with nothing to stop her, is that it? I guess I know what we hunt first," John couldn't mask his anger as he digested everything Bobby had told him over the last two hours. Sam just sat silently, listening intently to every word.

"You can't do that John. She's not the queen of hell anymore. She used Dean to bargain for her freedom. She's technically not even a demon anymore."

"I don't give a shit Bobby. Did she escape hell with no power, totally mortal, totally human? I bet she didn't. That makes her evil, and we have to destroy her."

"She knew you'd say that. She said you better think twice before you do anything, she's got some kind of insurance," Bobby gave that bit if information to John, eyes clearly fixed on Dean.

"What's that supposed to mean, insurance?'

"Don't know exactly. She said she'll only tell you. Wants a face to face. That's it. The next thing I knew, she was gone."

"This face to face, where and when."

"She said she'd be in touch."

"She'll be in touch, that's just great."

Sam finally spoke, only wanting the answer to one question. "What about Dean? What happens to him?"

"I don't know Sam. All she said was that she was the only one that could help, and I think she might be right."

"So, I guess we wait then," Sam sighed, slouching in his chair, looking defeated.

"Like hell we do. I say we go find that bitch, and force her hand."

"You would say that, wouldn't you, Dad. Let's piss her off, maybe she'll just get it over with now and kill Dean. For god's sake, look what she's already done to him. She has the upper hand, let's just wait for her to play it."

"Sam's right John, you push her, you don't know what she'll do or what she's capable of."

John knew they were right, but it broke his heart every time he looked at Dean. All that hurt and guilt, and all of it because of him. Sitting still and waiting was not something that came easily to him, but common sense would have to win out this time. With a single, forced nod of his head, he told Bobby and Sam that they'd won. He settled back into his own chair, staring off into space, his mind reeling at the thought of trusting someone like her with something so important to him.

They all sat in silence, never moving, never leaving, until well into the night. The room had long since gone dark, the sun giving way to the nearly full moon now and the tension almost visible when Dr. Garfield came in. All three men picked up their heads and stared at him, looking like they wanted the answers to life's most elusive questions.

"Our patient's still sleeping, I see. He may sleep straight through until morning, and my nurses tell me none of you have left this room since you got here. Might I suggest that you all get something to eat and get some rest. You won't do him any good if you can't even take care of yourselves. I know you've all been through an ordeal, but you're not doing anyone any good here. Visiting hours are over in twenty minutes, and I really can only let one of you stay."

"I'm staying," Sam's statement was final, his tone telling his father there would be no discussion on this point. That wasn't going to stop John from arguing though.

"Sam, the doc is right. You've been through a lot too, and not just the last couple of days. You need to rest. I'll stay with your brother."

"I said I'm staying Dad. You have no idea what we've been through, so don't even pretend you have a clue."

"John, Sam, now would not be the right time for this," Bobby indicated that Dr. Garfield was still in the room, hearing every word. "John, leave the boys. They'll be fine. We'll come back in the morning."

"Bobby, don't…"

"Dad, go with Bobby, because I'm not leaving. I'll call if anything happens."

"Sam," John's voice sounding almost desperate as he let out his one word plea.

Sam turned and gave his father a look he'd never seen come across his son's face. He looked like a mother ready to kill the predator that threatened it's young. It was enough for John to know that Sam wasn't moving one inch toward that door.

"Ok Sam, you win. We'll be back first thing in the morning."

"Good night gentlemen," Dr. Garfield told them as he extended his arm towards the door, the indication that it was time for them to go quite obvious.

Once they were alone, Dr. Garfield turned to Sam, seeing the desperation in his eyes.

"You know, I've got a big brother and an overbearing dad too. If you wanna talk, just say so. I'll listen."

Sam doubted the young doctor could really relate to anything he'd have to say, but thanked him anyway. Hell, he'd probably have Sam committed if he heard half of what was going on in his head right now. He stopped him before he could walk out the door, wanting to ask just one question.

"Shouldn't he have woken up by now?"

"Sam, if he was missing in the woods for two days, obviously with no food or water, and without knowing what kind of conditions he was under, I'd say no. The brain needs to recharge just as much as the body. Don't worry, when he's ready, he'll come around. Try to get some rest yourself. I'll have one of the nurses bring you a blanket."

"Thanks doc." Sam had to hope the doctor was right. It was all he had to hold on to right now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

John and Bobby made it to the cafeteria, knowing they had to eat something, not wanting to really go anywhere. They knew they'd have to find the nearest hotel to camp out in for the night. Grabbing sandwiches and chips, they found a seat in the farthest corner away from everyone they could.

"Can't remember the last time I ate food, and this is all I could get," John groaned.

"Quit complaining Winchester. It's gotta be better then what they serve where you came from," Bobby replied.

"Wouldn't know, never made it to the front of the buffet line."

"Probably damn lucky for that too."

Clearing his throat, John started the conversation he really would rather of avoided. "So, you and the boys close?"

"As close as they'll let me get. They don't let anyone too far in."

"I'm glad they have you. You've been a true friend, and they need more then just each other."

"Thank god they at least have each other."

"Amen. Bobby, I just want to say I'm sor…" John didn't get a chance to say what Bobby had probably been waiting years to hear.

"My, this is all so touching. And here I am without any tissues. My eyes are getting all misty, please, don't let me stop you."

John looked into her sharp, green eyes, and started to rise from his seat, ready to strangle her right here, right now.

"Sit down John, before you do something you'll regret. You should know that when Dean pledged to serve me for all eternity, he bound himself to me. Yeah, sure, I'm not a minion of hell anymore, but that really doesn't matter. Think of it as the grandfather clause, you know, the deal being made before I won my freedom, or should I say Dean won my freedom. Believe me, I took all my baggage with me. That means, if I die, he dies. It's as simple as that. Call it my little security blanket. You didn't honestly think I'd be that stupid, did you. I knew the minute I let you out, you'd come after me. Girl's gotta protect herself by any means possible. Besides, you wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. You should be grateful, not biting the hand that feeds you. You owe me your life, John Winchester, and don't ever forget it."

"I owe you my life? You tortured my son physically and mentally. You drove him to the brink, then kicked him over. He offered to trade himself for me, after you wounded him with every word you spoke. I owe you nothing, I owe him everything."

"John, that's not entirely true. If Dean hadn't offered himself for you, he would have lost, and all three of you would be in hell right now. You, because you put yourself there. Sam, because he would have been my prize. And Dean, because without you or Sam, he would have killed himself. I only did what I did to ensure his victory. I truly wanted him to be victorious. I wanted him to have back what is rightfully his. I apologize if the methods were cruel, but the end result is what matters, doesn't it."

"You really have a sick kind of logic, don't you?"

"It's realistic logic, that's all. Now, as for you, I'm sure you or your fellow hunters won't be of any threat to me, right. I think you know what's at steak. Since we three, or five if you count Sam and Dean, are the only ones that know what really happened, if we all keep it to ourselves, we can live happily ever after, no questions asked. Can I count on you for that, John? And you Bobby?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, you don't. Nice doing business with you, John."

She got up from the table and turned to leave, feeling John's hand grab her tight around the wrist and pulling her back.

"What about Dean? Is he ever coming back to us?"

"Don't look at me, I won't stop him."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Bright sunlight bathing the room and assaulting Sam's eyes pulled him from the light sleep he'd fallen into. The overly chipper nurse opening the blinds smiled at him when she saw him trying to stretch the kinks from his back. Hospital chairs were never meant to be slept in, and yet, they were a fixture en every room he'd ever sat in. Sam always wondered why they had to be so uncomfortable when they had to know people would be spending all day and night in them.

"Sorry to wake you, Mr. Johnson. Maybe some sunshine will help wake our sleepy patient here. Did he stir any, or did he sleep straight through the night?" She asked Sam while she busied herself with her duties.

Sam didn't really want to answer her question, the response making him face a reality he wasn't really sure he was ready to face. He couldn't imagine not having his brother with him, fighting right by his side. He didn't even think he wanted to.

"Yeah, he slept all night. Should I be worried?"

"Well, he's still got a fever, although it has gone down quite a bit. I'm sure Dr. Garfield will be in soon to talk to you."

It didn't escape Sam that the nurse had expertly dodged answering his question. That's what they do when the news is never good, they wiggle and squirm until it's open to escape.

"We'll keep an eye out for your dad. As soon as he arrives, we'll let Dr. Garfield know," she informed Sam, gathering her the blood she'd drawn and her supplies and exiting before Sam could ask her any other questions she could avoid.

Sam slouched down in his chair, hands over his face as he rubbed his eyes, trying to shake his thoughts into place. He knew hospital rules, but right now, he really didn't care. Breaking them, he pulled out his phone and called Bobby.

"Sam." It wasn't Bobby's voice, but the gravelly voice of his father greeting him.

"Dad, where are you?"

"We're on our way, what's wrong?"

John could tell by the tone of Sam's voice he wasn't calling with anything good to report.

"Doc's coming soon, they want you here."

If he didn't like Sam's tone the first time, he really didn't like it now. "We'll be right there."

Abruptly closing his phone, he ended the conversation, and shoved it back into his pocket, preferring it to remain silent. He stood to stretch, every muscle he had begging for relief from his cramped quarters and inactivity. He couldn't help but look at his brother. Laying in the exact same position he'd been in since he'd gotten here. Resting a hand on his shoulder, he needed to talk to him, whether he could hear him or not.

"Dude, you can wake up anytime now. Dad's on his way here, and you know I can't have a conversation with him that doesn't evolve into a fight. You need to referee for us, you know, like you used to. We need you to keep the peace. We need you, period."

Sam let out a heavy sigh, the weight on his shoulder getting heavier with every minute that passed. He sat back in his chair, watching the minutes slowly tick by, waiting for his father, then hopefully some answers.

The heavy pair of footsteps coming down the hall announced their arrival long before their actual presence. Sam stiffened in his seat, preparing for his father's return. They'd only been together a day and yet, it felt like they'd never been apart.

"Sam, anything new?"

"No. Waiting for the doctor to come, but no change."

As if he'd been cued, Dr. Garfield stepped in, giving a nod of acknowledgement to each man as he entered. Briefly checking his patient, he turned to address his captivated audience.

"I know you're anxious to hear good news, and I'd love nothing more then to give it to you. Blood tests all look encouraging, his fever is down, but I am a bit concerned that he hasn't regained consciousness yet. I'd like to run some tests to see of there's something going on we haven't seen. There was no visible head trauma, but right now we just can't rule it out.

Sam eyed his father, waiting for him to answer. By the look on his face, Sam suspected John knew something he hadn't shared yet.

"Run whatever tests you need. Just figure out what's wrong with him."

"That's what we're trying to do, Mr. Johnson. Try not to worry too much."

Once the doctor was gone, Sam turned to his father, the glare in his eyes demanding to know what John knew.

"What's going on Dad? I can see you know something, so spill it."

"Had that face to face last night, Sam. She said if we hunt her, Dean dies. She bound him to her. We have to make sure none of the other hunters find her either. Your brother's life would be at stake if they do."

"Well, if we're the only ones that know, we're safe, right? We just keep quiet, and nobody will know. What's another family secret anyway? Did she say if she is she going to send him back Dad? She is the reason he's still like this, isn't she?"

"I don't think so Sam. If we believe what she said, she'd not the cause of this. It has to be something else. Maybe the doctors can figure it out."

"You don't really believe her, do you? She's been playing us this whole time, why would she suddenly come clean now. No, she's the reason he's still like this, I know it."

"Sam, let's just wait for the test results before we jump to conclusions," Bobby spoke, the only voice of reason, as he tried to stifle Sam's rising anger before he and John went at it again. "When was the last time you ate Sam?"

"Can't remember. How long ago did all thus start?"

"Technically, yesterday, I think. Come on, I'll take you for something to eat. Give your old man some time alone with your brother. I think he deserves it."

Sam hated to admit it, but Bobby was right. It seemed like Bobby was always right lately.

"Alright, but you're buying."

"In that case, the cafeteria it is," Bobby turned to leave, Sam following, leaving John alone.

Pulling Sam's now vacated chair next to the bed, John sat, thinking about all the things he wished he could say. He was a man of few words, the one's he chose usually expressing everything he thought in as little as possible.

"I'm pretty sure you're in there son, so, whenever you're ready, we'll be here, waiting. We've got a lot to talk about, the three of us. Just don't keep us waiting too long, you know how Sammy can get."

"Excuse me, Mr. Johnson? We're ready to take him down now. We'll have him back in no time, I promise."

The next thing John knew, Dean was gone and he was totally alone. He actually hoped they would find something physically wrong with him. He couldn't bear the thought of Dean's condition being of Dean's own doing. Maybe he's built that wall up too high to climb over this time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam and Bobby returned well before Dean, and all three men passed the time in silence. Nobody really knew what to say to each other, so they just said nothing. When they'd finally brought Dean back, Sam was ready to blow. It had been hours, and he couldn't imagine what they may be doing to him. He'd pent up so much anxiety, if he didn't release it soon, he just may explode. Thankfully, Dr. Garfield was right behind, hopefully ready with some answers. Sam practically jumped him as he came in through the door.

"Please tell us you've found something," Sam's voice practically sounding like begging.

"We may have. We ran an MRI, CT, and PET scan. The MRI and PET show possible signs of Acute Stress Disorder. It's a condition similar to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but the symptoms hit you immediately, not weeks or months down the road. Whatever happened to him must have been pretty traumatic to cause this kind of reaction. He seems to have just shut himself off. There isn't much we can do for him at this point but wait. It's pretty much up to him now. We'll try giving him some anti-depressants, but I'm not confident that's going to help. Try talking to him, I'm sure he can hear you. I'm sorry it's not what you wanted to hear."

It was exactly what Sam didn't want to hear. Either she was lying and she had Dean trapped somewhere in his own body, or his brother had walled himself up and was unwilling to come out. Sam knew Dean, he knew he'd never close himself off that way. He was a fighter, he'd never cave in so easily.

"I'll leave you alone, unless you have any questions."

"No, thanks doc," John's tone obviously dismissing him.

"Please page me if you do."

Alone again, they settled back into their uneasy silence. None of them wanted to discuss what they'd just heard, mainly because none of them could believe it, and John and Sam both felt guilty for it. Had all that happened really damaged Dean that much? Sam doubted it.

They spent the next couple days taking turns at Dean's side, each man saying what he hoped Dean wanted or needed to hear. Sam let John have the second night, both men agreeing to share the load. By the third night, Sam wasn't sure of what else to say. The doctor had told them that if Dean didn't come around soon, they may need to find 'alternative' options. That meant nut house.

"Dean, I know you've heard it all, and Dad and I have probably said it all, but you're gonna hear it some more. You saved Dad, you saved me. How could you go through all that and not want to be part of it? We need you to come back to us. I need you to come back to us."

"Oh, Sam, that's so touching. You're family has such a macho way of expressing emotion. All that testosterone is unnerving sometimes."

Sam's blood instantly boiled at the sound of her voice. It was either the last thing or the only thing he wanted to hear, he wasn't sure which.

"You come here to gloat? Or are you here to finish what you started?"

"No, I came to help. Believe me or don't, but I can do what you've been unable to so far. What do you say Sam, will you trust me?"

"About as far as I can pick you up and throw you, but what choice do I have?"

"You could spend the rest of his life visiting him in a nursing home, watching him wither away to nothing, finally passing away alone and broken. I guess that would be your other choice."

"Since you put it that way, I guess I'll have to trust you then."

"Good, then you won't mind giving us a moment alone, will you?"

"Actually, I would mind. You really want me to leave you alone with him?"

"Nursing home, Sam."

"Fine. Have your moment."

"Close the door on your way out, we'd like to have some privacy."

If looks could kill, she would have been dead before she could have hit the floor. Sam walked past her, closing the door behind him as instructed.

Confident they were alone, she slid up to Dean, resting her chin next to his ear, and whispered softly to him.

"Oh Dean, I guess I can't have them committing you to the psych ward, can I? I'm pretty sure I've put enough fear into your father to secure my safety, and if not, there's enough in Sam for him to keep dear old dad in check. I knew you were the strong one, that's why I chose you, and not Sam. I could have just taken him and made him play the game, but I knew he didn't have it in him. He loves your father, but he loves you more, and would never have left you. You have freed your father, freed me, and now, it's time for you to free yourself. Enjoy your reward, you've earned it. I will always be grateful to you for what you've done, but let's just keep that between us, shall we. I'll leave you now, but before I go, one last riddle.

Of no use to one  
Yet absolute bliss to two.  
The small boy gets it for nothing.  
The young man has to lie for it.  
The old man has to buy it.  
The baby's right,  
The lover's privilege,   
To the young girl, faith;  
To the married woman, hope;  
To the old maid, charity.

If we meet again, share it with me, then you will be free."

Kissing him softly on the cheek, she strolled quietly out the door, taking one last look at Sam as she passed him by.

"Hope it helped."

Sam raced back into the room, straight to the bed. "Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean's only response was a soft groan, but for now, Sam would take it.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sam hadn't slept, not a wink, all night, as he waited for what he hoped would happen, but never did. For the first time in days, Dean's sleep had been restless, which he thought to be a good sign, but it just wasn't enough. Every toss and turn garnered Sam's undivided attention, only to be let down when it turned out to be nothing more then just that, tossing and turning. Frustrating him even more was the fact that all the attempts he'd made to contact his father and Bobby had gone unanswered, leaving him more then a little irritable.

Now that morning was in full swing, the hustle and bustle of activity around him made him well aware of the fact that the world was moving on without them as they were trapped in some kind of crazy limbo. He was tired, frustrated, angry, and scared, and knew something had to give soon. He figured he may as well add to his foul mood by once again trying to contact Bobby, and add to it he did when he just got voice mail, again.

Slipping the phone back in his pocket, he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his frayed nerves. Leaning his head against the bed, he meant to rest his eyes for only a few minutes. The lids were so heavy, and so hard to keep apart. He let them drift closed like they were magnetized together, telling himself if would only be for a little while. He never heard the footsteps as they came in the room.

"Sam, wake up son," John's gruff tone pulling Sam back into the waking world.

"Dad, what time is it?" Sam couldn't believe he'd actually fallen asleep. He hadn't wanted to, but some things just couldn't be stopped.

"Afternoon, about two. How's Dean?"

Sam did the mental math, and was shocked to calculate he'd been asleep for over four hours. Noticing Bobby's obvious absence, he ignored his father's question, responding with one of his own.

"Where they hell have you been? And where is Bobby?"

"We had some things to take care of, Sam. Bobby'll be back."

"What things did you have to take care of, Dad? What could possibly be more important then being here, helping Dean? I've been trying to get a hold of you and Bobby since last night. Dean could have died, and you wouldn't even know, and would you even care?"

"Don't take that tone with me, boy. I'm not even dignifying that with a response."

"Why, because you don't have a good one? So, let's have it, what's so damn important that you couldn't stroll in here before mid-afternoon. Warding off evil spirits, summoning demons, early happy hour, what?"

"Bobby's on his way to the yard, to pick up my truck. He's had it since, well, since I left."

"And you need your truck right now why, exactly? You planning on going somewhere? Were you thinking about taking off again, while Dean lays there stuck in his own head? That's what you do, isn't it. You took off on him, making him come to me to help him find you, and that went well, didn't it. Or how about when he called you from Lawrence, back at the old house. You think that was easy? Oh, and let's not forget when Dean got electrocuted, and was dying. You really stepped up to the plate when I called then, didn't you. Damn it Dad, when is it gonna end, when are you gonna put Dean first, just for once?"

"What do you think I did when I made that deal, Sam? I did that for Dean, I put him before everything. How dare you tell me I don't put your brother first."

"Before everything Dad? Even before me? Our whole lives, you've pounded it into him that he needs to protect me, look out for me, take care of me. You made him into my personal bodyguard. But who looks out for Dean, Dad? It sure as hell wasn't you. What you did to him was probably worse then letting him die. You made him live with the guilt and pain of you dying for him. He worshipped the ground you walked on, why, I'll never know. Maybe Lilith did him a favor, maybe now he'll be able to live with himself again."

"You want some butter with that roll, Sam. Lay off already, will yah?"

"No Dean, I won't lay off. He needs to know how mu……Dean?"

"I was the last time I checked. Do you two think you could give it a rest? You're giving me a headache."

Sam was stupefied. For just a minute, he thought he was hearing things. He struggled to come up with something, anything, to say, but for some reason, just couldn't. No cohesive thought would emerge, and all he could state was the obvious.

"Dean, you're awake?"

"I think we've already established that, Sam. All that yakking you've been doing over the last couple of days, that's the best you can come up with?"

"You heard it, remember it?"

"Every word. Just couldn't do anything about it. Dude, you really think I wanna live inside my own head the rest of my life? That'd be worse then hell, trust me."

"What finally brought you back? It was us arguing, wasn't it?"

"Princess Charming's visit last night brought me back, your arguing just woke me up. I'll give her credit, she's one smart demon. Someday, someone's gonna give me the whole story, I hope."

John remained silent, listening to every word spoken between his boys. He thought about it for days, but still didn't know how exactly to approach Dean when the time came. What do you say to someone that literally went to hell and back, taking you along for the journey home?

"Dad?" Dean's tone changed as he asked for his father, the voice of the confident man being replaced by the almost childlike sound of a four-year-old looking for approval.

"Yeah Dean, I'm here."

"You're really here? It's really you?"

"Yeah, it's really me, I'm really here. I don't know how you did it, but you did, and I couldn't be prouder."

"Wasn't like I had a choice, was it?"

"Yeah, you did. You're just lucky she had ulterior motives, or you wouldn't be here right now."

"Just between us, I think she likes me. I mean, come on, what's not to like."

"Dean, sometimes, I think you need professional help," Sam chuckled.

"Speaking of professional help, someone want to go see what I gotta do to get out of here? Like, today. You two can finish your fight over a pitcher of beer and a pizza, deal?"

"Deal. I'll get your walking papers, Sam, help him get dressed."

"I've been dressing myself since I was four. I can do it myself."

"How you gonna do that when all your clothes are in the car, Mr. Wizard," Sam hustled from the room behind his father, smiling at the finger that was thrown his way as he exited the door. It was good to have his brother back.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, Dean, I'm sorry to see you go. I was really interested in hearing what happened those two days you were missing. You seem to have recovered well though, other then the loss of your memory. I can't see any reason to keep you here." Dr. Garfield eyed his patient, rather suspiciously.

"Sorry doc, can't remember a thing. Really wish I could, though. Guess it's better left in the past anyway," Dean came back. He wasn't sure he liked this guy very much, not really sure why though.

Fully dressed, Dean was ready to go, irritation growing as the young doctor just kept talking.

"Well, if you ever need anything when you're in the area, fell free to call. Here's my card." Dean took it, shoving it in his jacket pocket, intent on tossing it out the window the second they were in the car. "Hospital policy, you gotta take the wheels down. Hop in, I'm sure you're brother will be more then happy to wheel you out."

Not wanting to waste another minute, Dean sat as quickly as humanly possible, indicating to Sam to just start wheeling him away, which he did. They made their way to the awaiting elevator, which Dean had no intention of taking.

"Take the elevator around the corner."

"What for?"

"Just do it, Sam."

Shrugging, Sam followed the hall down and around, Dean stopping him at the next set of elevators. Climbing out of the chair, he gave it a shove, sending it on it's empty way down the hall.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking out of here on my own two feet. Screw hospital policy," Dean told his brother, as the doors opened and he defiantly stepped into the car that would take him out of the hell hole he was currently in.

Dr. Garfield watched them go, making sure they were well out of sight before he pulled out his cell phone to place a call.

"They just left……Their dad's already downstairs……They didn't say where they were going… …Just follow them, but don't get caught……Call me if they separate… …Fine, I'll call you later."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16/The End?

The bar was seedy, just the way Dean liked them. Loud music, loud people, and lots of liquor, that's what he wanted right now. The three of them strolled into the bar together, Dean pushing his way up to the counter, John and Sam into the farthest booth from the door as possible. Dean ordered three shots and three beers, knowing two of the shots would be for him. Sam was a lightweight when it came to liquor, and he'd happily accommodate his brother's distaste for the harder spirit's the second he complained.

Scanning the room like the well trained hunter he was, something caught his attention in the far corner, or rather, someone. She stood at the jukebox, finger tapping away at buttons, even though she hadn't fed the machine any money. Dean didn't need to see her face to know who she was, and as the bartender brought over his drinks, he downed one shot, took another and a beer, and asked that the rest of the drinks be taken to the booth in the corner where his brother and father sat waiting.

John watched Dean, seeing what he saw before Dean even saw it. As Sam watched his father, then his brother, he saw her too. His eyes followed her as she slid back into the dark booth in the opposite corner, and as Sam started to rise from his seat, intent on doing something, anything, to stop his brother from doing what he was about to do, John grabbed his arm, pushing him back down into the booth.

"Let him be, he knows what he's doing."

"But Dad, that's…"

"I know, and so does Dean. He needs to do this himself, so let him do it."

The music started screaming from the jukebox as she toyed with her drink, knowing full well they were there. As the screeching voice of Axl Rose filled the bar, she saw him coming her way.

Please allow me to introduce myself  
I'm a man of wealth and taste  
I've been around for a long long year

Stolen many man's soul and faith  
I was around when Jesus Christ had

His moment of doubt and pain  
Made damn sure that Pilate

Washed his hands and sealed his fate

Pleased to meet you

Hope you guess my name  
But what's puzzling you is the

Nature of my game

"Stones did it better, you know. You can't top the original." Dean looked her in the eye, as he slid into the booth across from her, drinks in hand.

"That may be true, but I have a soft spot for Axl. I know what his future holds, and it isn't pretty."

"Mind if I join you?"

"I don't know, I don't usually go for younger men. Why don't you try sending that Dad of yours over?"

"Oh, come on, what's a few thousand years? It's not that big an age difference. Besides, I don't think my dad likes you very much."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, after all we've meant to each other. It's good to see you, exactly how long has it been Dean?"

"five months, thirteen days, to be exact."

"You've been counting, I'm flattered. Well, it didn't take you long to find me, did it?"

"You didn't make it very hard, we just followed the trail of dead vampires you left behind. You're pretty efficient at taking them out, aren't you? You need to work on cleaning up after yourself a little better though."

"Just clearing the skeletons out of my closet. Where do you think all those vampires came from, anyway? And what makes you think I wanted to clean up after myself? You hunters are the only ones that recognize the signs anyway. It was like my little trail of breadcrumbs. And it worked too, because here you are."

"Point taken. Let's get down to business, if you don't mind. Nobody really seems to want to tell me what exactly your whole deal was, so, why don't you explain it to me, in your own words, from start to finish. I think I deserve that much."

"You do, do you? Fair enough. Where should I begin? Hell isn't a very nice place, Dean. What you saw is nothing compared to the true horror that it really is. Didn't your dad tell you all about it?"

"No, and we haven't asked."

"Maybe you should. It would be very entertaining dinner conversation, or maybe around the campfire."

"Stick to the story, add the director's commentary later."

"Tough crowd, fine. After thousands of years, all that misery, disease, and death tends to get to you. It was amazing what humans would do to get what they want, not fully understanding the consequences of their actions. It didn't take long for me to know I didn't want to be there anymore. I was human once too, you know. It's a little hard to get out though, when the man upstairs gives you to ruler of hell as punishment for disobedience. I mean, come on, that was a little harsh, wasn't it? Guy never heard of a time out before. I did get some minor sort of revenge, which I'm now paying for by having to clean up. Call it my penance, I guess. I had to find some way out of hell, and since your family was so high on the list of priorities, I decided to use that to my advantage. Don't ask me why either, because I'm not answering that question. Part of the deal is I keep my mouth shut. You'll just have to find that one out all on your own. So, Samael, you know who he is, I'm sure, and I made a bet. Five challenges you had to face, and five you had to win, then I would be free. He knew I could convince you to play, and maybe figure out the riddles, but he didn't think I could get you to trade yourself for your dad, and he was confident you wouldn't guess my name. You lay that idiot façade on pretty well, because He was wrong on both accounts, and here I am. You were much smarter then anyone gave you credit for, except me, that is."

"So, you used me, abused me, then tossed me out like yesterday's garbage, all to get ungrounded, that it?"

"Not exactly. I knew what a triumph it had been when your father was finally taken down, the ultimate thorn in their side, and I wanted nothing more then to take that satisfaction away. Guess I'm a little bitter. I was so confident you would succeed Dean, that I made returning him to you part of the deal. After all, it was the least I could do. All your hard work should have been rewarded, and he should have never been taken from you in the first place. I just righted a wrong, that's all."

"So, you're saying Sam was never really part of the equation?"

"I'm not saying that at all. If you had lost, Sam would have been mine, and I would have just traded my way out. Simple as that. You are his protector, and if you give him up willingly, I would have been able to do with him as I pleased. I know that sounds harsh, but that's just the way it is. Good thing things turned out for the best, isn't it. It's not like it doesn't have it's advantages for you, right?"

"How so?"

"You've got your dad back, and why, do you suppose it is, you have this uncanny ability of being able to sense the evil in a room, before you ever see it? You can't say that hasn't come in handy, can you? And is there a reason you haven't told your father or brother what you can do yet? Afraid they'll think poorly of you, using the power that's been loaned to you?"

Dean knew she was right. Since he'd left the hospital, he could 'sense' things around him, and it had saved their asses a couple of times. He just didn't want to believe that it had come from her, even though he knew it must have. And he was never telling his father. One psychic freak in the family was enough.

"You mean like the good Dr. Garfield, who reported everything to you in real time, or that guy at the end of the bar who keeps shooting looks this way, the one that's been following you for the last two days. I know he's your next target, and he thinks he's going to take you out first, right. What an ass. He's got no clue who he's dealing with, does he? So, what else have you gifted me with I should thank you for?"

"If you're referring to the nightmares, those are all yours. Nothing I can do to help that. I wish I could though, they are pretty disturbing. And stop worrying, none of the minions of hell are coming to take your father back. That was a done deal the minute you said my name. I told you when I make rules, I follow them. I safeguard that they will be followed by others also."

"You see them, the nightmares?"

"When I want to. We are bound together, remember. I like to check in on you every now and then Dean, see how you're doing, see how Sam's doing, make sure your old man isn't planning on doing anything stupid."

"I'm glad you brought that up, that whole 'bound together' thing. You're telling me that as long as we're connected, I have this 'sense'?"

"For as long as we're connected. Think of how important that could be to you in the future, you know, when they do finally decide to come for Sam. They are going to come, you know. It's just a matter of time."

"Then I guess I'll save my kiss for another day."

"It's your choice Dean. If you choose to keep what you've got, I can't stop you."

"If it helps me protect Sam, why wouldn't I?"

"Why wouldn't you, indeed. If that's your decision, I'll be on my way. I have some business to attend to. Until we meet again, Dean Winchester."

She got up, slowly making her way through the mass of people to the door, stopping briefly and acknowledging John and Sam as they just stared daggers at her from their corner of the bar. The next thing they knew she was gone, and Dean was sitting next to his brother, semi-warm beer in hand.

"Dean, are you alright?"

"Yeah Sam, I am."

"Somehow I get the feeling we haven't seen the last of her, have we."

"No Sam, We haven't."

A/N: Thanks to all that read, hope you enjoyed it. It was written long before season 3, so technically, I thought of Lilith first.


End file.
